#there is not a maximum amount of love a person can hold in their heart. there is no tear that must happen. love is cumulative and infinite!!

[dorianpavus]

wayhaven love triangle is poly in my heart

[documentingmymentalhealth]

Okay, so starting with this; uh hi, I’m- ok introductions don’t even mean anything right now, this isn’t me gonna get seen by a lot of people and I’d like to keep it that way.

My meds won’t work, I take anti-depressants; diagnosed and prescribed, I’m leaning on taking the maximum amount of Prozac a person is allowed to take. They don’t know if any other meds can work either with my symptoms. I have another appointment in January, I hope I can get this figured out. I’m starting to loose a lot of sleep and sleep during the day. This is taking a big toll on my mental health AND my boyfriend’s; I barely talk to him anymore because I’m either busy, sleeping, or I lie to him about being busy but in reality I just want to be left alone. I don’t know why I do that with anybody that loves me, I push them away immediately. And I can’t think of a reason why except for being scared of feeling trapped; like I can’t have any freedom anymore.

“I really think you and your girlfriend need eachother..or maybe you just need to treat her better..”

I feel like that, I need to treat him better, I love him but I’m scared of the future and anything that’ll come of that. I’m scared of being tied down to something and having consequences about it. I don’t know what to do. I’m starting to feel lonely again, I know it’s my fault directly, for not being a good partner. I just need help to try and fix it, because I don’t know how to. I don’t want to keep this from him either, but none of it is his fault, I need to talk to him.

12/28/23

(Rant over; trying to find quotes to reflect on)

“You know, often times we don't sit down to think about

The grudges, resentment, and anger that we hold onto

Every day, in our bodies, in our hearts, and in our minds

Whether you're aware of it or not

I am willing to bet you that there is a way that you are disappointed in yourself”

—————————————————————————

This makes me think. I never try to think about my emotions, or how much I’m holding back from people. When I think about it, I hate myself, no matter how much I say that I’m healing and getting better. My physical health is getting better, but my mental health is getting really really bad again. I need to reach out for help, forgive, let go of regrets.

[serrurie]

Hello, friends. I hope your day yesterday was filled with blessings and joy. How’d you like the first blog? Did it feel tough? Crucial? If you haven’t felt insulted by it yet, I guess I have my work cut out for me. (Just kidding. Mostly.)

Today is day two of my wonderful new series, ‘Getting Your Life Together-Day 2: Smile’. So, do you have any guesses about today’s topic? Because, friends, it isn’t just about smiles. You smile with your eyes. You smile with the way you hold your hands, and the way your feet are pointed. We smile by showing how we take care of ourselves.

Be honest. Do you take care of yourself?

If you’re reading this lovely blog of mine, probably not. I just want you to know now, right at this very moment, that you look so amazing right now. It’s nearly unexplainable how beautiful we all are.

But, if you don’t put on your smile, you aren’t going to look near as beautiful as you are. Are you smiling right now? If not, you probably look grumpy, ticked off, like you have someplace else to be. You probably do have someplace else to be. But this is important.You are important.

And can I guess why you are so grumpy; you don’t like how you look, now do you?

Looks are one of the least important things I can cover, but in a way, their insignificance is what makes them so important. We need to recognize that looks aren’t everything. You are so much more than a face, and letting our good, inner person shine through is what we really need to focus on.

That being said, if you still aren’t happy with your looks, I am telling you right now that sulking about it isn’t the answer. If we are to change ourselves inside and out, for the better, than lounging around telling yourself that you're ugly is the worst possible thing you can do. 

I’m not saying to change yourself. I’m saying to better yourself. Get that face moisturizer on! Build that personal workout! Get out and do! It’s the only way you’re going to make a change.And if you don’t have motivation, take mine. I’ll give it up. Message me if you want a daily reminder from me, if you need a bit of encouragement in the next blog post about it, than go ahead! I’m ready to be here to help you meet your goals.

There’s a typical mistake I think you’re going to make if you start working out. It goes a little something like this:

I’ll start on a way too simple workout to make sure I don’t go overboard.

Wow, I didn’t get abs yet after doing this five minute workout for just one week.

*Gives up out of sadness that their body just can’t have abs*.

Of course, I dramatized it so you would get a better picture. But, this is a mistake I don’t want you to make. You can’t expect major results if you're treating your body like that of a preschooler’s. You need to make sure you are at the perfect interval for yourself. I do not want to see someone contacting me on here saying that they nearly passed out from their workout. That is not the way. You need something not too hard, and not too easy. The goal of working out is to create tiny tears in the fibers of your muscles, which then reform to create bigger muscles. (Link to information here: howmusclerepairworks)That's where the pain comes from. If you’re not feeling a decent amount of tension/pain, get yourself a more intense workout.

You may be asking yourself, ‘how do I know where I stand?’ Great question, friend. There are plenty of tests to measure where you’re at for different parts of the body.Here are some examples that I would encourage:

Step test- this measures cardiorespiratory endurance; measuring how long it takes to get your heart rate down to normal after stepping up and down on a stool for three minutes. To get your pulse, count the number of beats of your heart, multiply by four. That’s your heart rate. The shorter the amount of time, the better.

Repetition maximum- this measures how much you can lift without any injuries. If you have some weights at home, great! If not, find some items and put them on a scale, or try to find them on a website like Amazon to find their weight.If you don’t feel any tension, keep going up in weight until you do. Where you feel pain is where you need to work.

Stretching is extremely important when working out. If you don’t want cramps or to feel like a walking penguin when you're done, stretch before and after.

I bet you’re asking yourself why you should even go to all of the trouble to do all this. I’ll give you an answer. There is so much goodness waiting to blossom inside of us, but we can’t share that goodness to others unless we take care of ourselves. 

I’d like everyone reading this to try one of the tests and see where you’re at. Record your results in the comments. I really want to help you guys!

That’s it for today, friends. I hope your weekend is filled with love and kindness.

I love you!

         -Serrurie

[soulobliss]

Selecting the Ultimate St. Lucia Wedding Venue

Your wedding day holds immense significance, and the selection of an ideal venue profoundly influences the ambiance of the entire celebration. Amidst the realm of destination weddings, St. Lucia shines like an enchanting paradise, boasting pristine beaches, lush rainforests, and awe-inspiring landscapes. Within this blog, we will expertly lead you through the crucial steps in discovering your dream wedding venue in this Caribbean gem, ensuring that your special day becomes a truly magical experience.

Define Your Vision:

Before diving into the sea of options, take some time to envision your dream wedding. Decide whether you desire a beachfront ceremony, a garden wedding surrounded by tropical flora, or a luxurious resort setting. Understanding your preferences will help narrow down the possibilities and make the decision-making process easier.

Set a Budget:

Establishing a budget is crucial in any wedding planning process. Research the cost of wedding venues in St. Lucia and determine the maximum amount you're willing to spend on the venue. Keep in mind that the budget should include not only the venue rental but also any additional services or amenities you may want to add.

Guest List and Capacity:

When planning your destination wedding in St. Lucia, it's essential to take into account the number of guests you'll be inviting. Opt for a venue that can graciously accommodate all your loved ones, maintaining an intimate and inviting ambiance at the same time.

Location and Accessibility:

Enchanting St. Lucia presents a myriad of awe-inspiring locations, each boasting its own distinct charm. Whether your heart yearns for a tranquil beachside escape or a hilltop haven offering sweeping panoramic vistas, find the venue that perfectly resonates with your desired ambiance. Moreover, make certain the chosen location is readily accessible for both you and your guests, with convenient nearby accommodation options and easy transportation arrangements.

On-Site Services and Amenities:

Look for venues that provide comprehensive wedding packages and on-site services. From event coordinators to catering and decor, having a team that can assist with the logistics and arrangements can ease the planning process and make your wedding day stress-free.

Reviews and Testimonials:

Do your research and read reviews from couples who have previously tied the knot in St. Lucia. Their experiences can provide valuable insights into the venues' quality, service, and overall experience.

Visit the Venue:

If possible, plan a visit to St. Lucia and tour the shortlisted venues in person. This will give you a firsthand feel for the atmosphere, ambiance, and overall appeal of each location. Take note of the venue's condition, cleanliness, and how well it aligns with your vision.

Weather Considerations:

Be mindful of St. Lucia's weather patterns when choosing your wedding date and venue. While the island's climate is generally favorable year-round, it's essential to be aware of hurricane seasons and rainy periods to avoid any potential weather-related challenges on your special day.

Flexibility and Customization:

Every couple is unique, and so should be their wedding. Choose a venue that offers flexibility and allows for personalization, allowing you to add your special touches and create a memorable and distinctive event.

Trust Your Instincts:

Ultimately, trust your instincts when making the final decision. If a particular venue resonates with you and brings a sense of excitement and joy, it's likely the perfect choice for your wedding day.

Conclusion:

Selecting the perfect wedding venue in St. Lucia is an integral part of creating cherished memories that will last a lifetime. By defining your vision, setting a budget, and carefully evaluating the available options, you can ensure that your dream destination wedding in St. Lucia becomes an unforgettable reality. With the Caribbean sun kissing your skin and the mesmerizing beauty of St. Lucia surrounding you, your wedding day will be a celebration of love in paradise.

[mylambandmartyr]

@annoyingcloudtidalwave I think we are engaging with these shows in fundamentally different ways, but I’ll bite.

I was initially talking about a pattern I’ve noticed of people flattening both characters just because they want a cute, fluffy romance. That’s fine, people can do whatever they want, but I’m an annoying media analyst at heart, so I like it when characters are allowed to be meaty and complicated in fanworks and It’s always a little disappointing when people don’t take chances to explore that and instead decide to just completely change their characterization.

With humongous properties like Marvel, there’s a lot of writing cowardice within the original works themselves. They pussyfoot around things for maximum palatability, so their stories have mass-market appeal and aren’t too challenging. I think that’s partially why my brain latched onto Punisher and Daredevil, because the characterization that we’re given has a surprising amount of potential and a lot of it goes unused. What I’m interested in dissecting and reassembling is what I see as unused potential, so I definitely am inserting and exacerbating ideas because I find them fun to play around with.

Back to Karen and Frank.

As far as instability goes, we see that both of them at the very least are drawn to it, consciously or not. It’s a self-destructive impulse, but neither of them have ever really been allowed to have stability; children weaned on poison consider harm a comfort etc, etc...

Textually, Frank thrives in danger, that’s the main reason he joined the military. You’re right that he thinks he will never find peace, and it’s likely he never will. He recognizes that his work is Sisyphean, that’s what makes him an interesting character.

Karen is an investigative journalist with an addictive personality and a thing for volatile men. She doesn’t strike me as someone who likes it when things are calm, and I think it’s part of why she likes Frank. He’s dangerous, unpredictable, but also obviously respects and trusts her, something she’s never really gotten a lot of from other people in her life. It’s interesting to see that juxtaposed with the almost paternalistic way Matt and Foggy seem to see Karen. She entered their lives as a victim and she holds that position throughout Daredevil, it’s why they try to shelter her, lie to her, and exclude her from important conversations she should be involved with. All she wants is someone to tell her the truth, to cut the bullshit, and to treat her like an equal.

Although Frank saves her on multiple occasions and seems to also feel some level of paternalistic protectiveness, (their slight age gap lends itself to this) he sees her as a full person capable of taking care of herself. He sees her as a Complete person, really, someone who not only doesn’t need him, but also needs to be Away from him.

I did phrase the beginning of my ramble in the tags strangely so I’ll elaborate. It’s hard to tell what exactly Frank truly wants in a hypothetical relationship with Karen (Part of that is intentional obfuscation by the writers so they can maintain the “will they?/won’t they?” thing with Karen and Frank/Karen and Matt so they can keep doing fan service stuff,) but it seems like they want different things. Frank doesn’t want a capital R “Relationship”. He loves her, yeah, but he doesn’t want Karen the way she wants him. Karen wants to hold him until he softens, wants to dig her nails into him and keep him. Frank wants someone to punish him, someone who will love and leave and let him keep an empty place in his heart.

To me, Karen and Frank’s relationship is ultimately a tragedy, which makes them more interesting to write about. That said, You don’t have to think about them like that, that’s the best part of media analysis!

Sitting alone with my controversial Frank Castle and Karen Page opinions

[2018-01-20]

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE.

sypnosis. he might not say it outright, but his actions really do show that he loves with his whole heart.

pairing. manila!mikey manjiro sano × gn!reader

warning. showering together & a bit suggestive, but completely sfw.

sticky-note. fluff/comfort + read slowly for maximum enjoyment! wc. 1k

you feel as if sweet, sugary love is being wrapped around you like a fluffy blanket whenever you shower with mikey.

his gorgeous, dark raven hair still looks flawless and amazing; even when they’re soaked to the scalp and some of the strands are sticking to the sides of his head. your hands tingle with the heavy urge to run your fingers through those very strands—a smile on your face as mikey’s eyes soften when his gaze falls onto you.

“is the water cold?” he speaks with a gentle tone, one that he reserves for you and only you, leaning over your side to grab a soap bar on a shelf behind of you. shamelessly, you give in and stare at his bicep when he reaches over your shoulder, face just starting to warm despite the already hot water of the shower as his perfectly sculpted chest comes into full view of your line of sight.

“yes,” you speak on natural instinct, without a doubt distracted by his muscles before realizing your words and embarrassingly rushing to shake your head. “no-no! i mean— no, t-the water’s fine.”

he pins an eyebrow up but doesn’t say a single word, biting back a small grin when his eyes don’t miss the way you’re obviously trying to look, but not look at his lean body at the same time. he puts a hand out to hold your elbow, starting to tenderly soap your arms as you take quick, fleeting glances at his pretty hands.

you might think that you’re being overly dramatic, but manjiro sano will take his thought of you being the most endearing person on earth to the goddamn grave.

it is very cute to him: the way you still admire him like a beautiful, well-made greek sculpture, as if you two haven’t already been dating for a long while now. the adoration in your eyes whenever your gaze meets his makes his chest burn with the urge to protect you from this cruel, terribly harsh world—and he can’t help but show his love with his warmth and caring actions.

like now: his touch is kind and light, completely opposing the way he dangerously fights as his hands trail to spread a generous amount of soap onto your arms. hot water soothingly hits your back as he presses a kiss onto your forehead, no words needed to be said to convey his love. you smile, heart feeling honored and giddy by his genuine actions, and your cheeks even begin to hurt as the butterflies in your stomach fervently flutter and fly around.

mikey softly whispers a, “turn around, babe,” and you shiver when his calloused hands trace your spine, eyes not focused on the imperfections, but just on purely admiring you overall. “you can rinse off your arms now, but don’t ‘accidentally’ get soap into your eyes.”

resisting the urge to spin around and smack his shoulder, you snort at the tone that you absolutely know he means to be making fun of you. but still, you nod while leaning into his feverishly comforting touch, feeling hazy from the shower’s steam as you let the water wet the bubbles away.

unexpectedly—but definitely not unwelcomed—his hands start to playfully trace shapes onto your back with more soap, quietly smiling to himself when you giggle at the funny feeling.

“bored?” you raise your arms to wipe the soap off with a teasing lilt to your voice. “i promise that i’ll help you with the soap too after you finish your turn first, ro-ro.”

you can practically hear him roll his eyes with a slight smile before his next words. “‘bored?’ me? ...sometimes, maybe.

“but never with you, sweetheart.”

oh.

oh god.

you didn’t think it was possible to love and hate your boyfriend at the same time for being so infuriatingly attractive.

and then now, it’s your turn to roll your eyes—heart slowly starting to run a whole marathon, forcing you to ignore the blood rushing to your face as you rapidly turn around and let the water splash the soap away.

gently cupping his (also annoyingly gorgeous) face into the palms of your hands, you slowly move to passionately and appreciatively kiss the both of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his jawline, and then finally, his beautiful, soft lips.

“w-well,” you flusteredly murmur with an averted gaze, water still drenching the both of your standing figures to the bone, “... i guess i’ll say me too.”

“you guess?” his jaw drops in feigned, dramatic offense, a hand moving to his chest for more effect. “i can’t believe i poured my whole heart out to you, and you ‘guess’ that you love me back.” and unfortunately for you, you’re suddenly laughing out loud as he teasingly pokes at you—not too harshly so you don’t trip, but enough that it pulls a response out of you.

but this time, mikey’s sporting a smile without hiding, a smile that you oh-so badly want to kiss even as you giggle to your heart’s content.

“f-fine,” you finally sputter out with a tiny grin. (one that mikey considers very cute as well.) “i don’t think i can ever be bored with you, too. happy, now?”

before you can even take the soap bar from his hands, you pout when he steps out of the shower without his own soap bathe, generously holding out his towel for you to burrow into. but then, you do so without complaint, your heart nearly growing two sizes bigger when he sweetly wraps his arms around you.

“i don’t think i can ever stop loving you,” he whispers honestly into your ear, breath tickling the shell of it. when he smiles into the top of your head as you slip your arms around his figure, you swear you’re the luckiest person on earth to have this side of mikey all to yourself.

“me too,” you whisper back. “i love, love, love you.”

[feathers-scales-and-tails]

Been seeing a lot of “backyard eggs are cruel” articles lately, so I wanted to go through a couple of the points they raise and highlight why backyard eggs aren’t inherently cruel.

1) Chicks come from factory farm hatcheries

This point is entirely dependent upon an individuals purchasing choices. The only chicks coming from factory farm hatcheries are production hybrids, so ISA Brown, HYLINE Brown, Utility Leghorn, etc. so long as you don’t purchase these hybrids, you don’t support the unethical factories.

Although private hatcheries have their own plethora of ethical issues, these places are not suppliers to factory farms. The best place to purchase your chicks or pullets from is a private breeder who has good welfare standards. Neither of these options support the factory farms, and the claim that majority of backyard hens come from these factory farm hatcheries is false. I currently can’t name a single person I know with birds from a factory farm hatchery.

2) Male chicks are killed at birth

If you are buying factory farm chicks, yes. However as I mentioned above, few backyard hens are coming from this source. Private hatcheries which sex chicks either sell cockerels cheaper, or sell them in bundle deals for meat birds. Unfortunately private hatcheries are about profit, and believe it or not they can still profit off cockerels.

Private breeders rarely ever sex chicks. It requires specialised training and cockerels are harder to sell, so most sell chicks unsexed. Breeders also want to grow out these cockerels, there needs to be a keep back for the next generation of breeding. Either way, private hatcheries and breeders where a lot of backyard hens are sourced from are not killing male chicks on a large scale.

3) Hens are unhealthy and unnatural due to genetic manipulation

First of all, domestic hens lay more eggs than their ancestors due to selective breeding, not ‘genetic modification’ or ‘genetic manipulation’. Production hybrids are certainly unhealthy, laying over 300 eggs a year causes their bodies to wear out and they’re predisposed to so many reproductive issues. They were bred with the intention of maximum production, replaced after 18 months once this production declines. They are a mess and frankly should not exist.

This is the argument point which always frustrates me the most because, you do realise there are hundreds of chicken breeds right? And just like with dogs, these breeds all have different temperaments, characteristics, and health statuses.

A well bred Wyandotte who lays 200 eggs a year rarely experiences the health issues of production hybrids. These issues are almost unheard of in Sumatra or Sebright who lay 50-100 eggs a year. There are so many heritage breeds out there bred for their longevity, living on average 7-8 years rather than the measly 2-3 of production hybrids.

Most people who keep backyard hens love these birds dearly, these are their pets. Why would someone purchase an unethical production hybrid off the factory farms knowing she will die a horrible death in 2 years, when they could instead get a heritage breed who’ll lay them eggs until she’s at least 5?

I know very few people with backyard hens who keep the production birds

4) Hens are abandoned/killed when production slows/stops

I have yet to meet a single person who has purposefully gotten rid of their hens once production slows or stops.

Production hybrids rarely stop laying unless they are actively affected by reproductive complications, these birds sadly die before they stop laying so owners are definitely not ‘abandoning’ these birds, rather they die long before their time while still pumping out those eggs. Alternatively, heritage breeds will lay for years. We’ve had a 9 year old Sussex still laying eggs. For all the backyard keepers with heritage breeds, the time to ‘replace’ hens is often very far into the future.

This isn’t even raising the point that, these hens are pets. People can eat eggs and still bond fiercely with their hens, people can eat eggs and still value the life of the hen. I don’t think many people are going to turn around and kill their friend suddenly because she stops laying as frequently. My grandfather who used to own a small scale egg farm always kept his old hens who no longer laid, he’d had them for 7 years and that’s an attachment that’s hard to break.

The idea that hens suddenly stop laying eggs one day so people replace them is quite silly, it just doesn’t happen in a backyard setting. Certainly in egg farms, but not with pet hens.

5) Laying eggs depletes nutrients. Hens need to be fed their eggs to get these back

Laying eggs definitely takes up a shocking amount of vitamins, minerals, and amino acids. A big one is calcium, the egg needs a lot to shell it, but each egg also needs enough calcium stores inside the yolk to nurture and grow a chicks skeleton. If a hen doesn’t have enough calcium, she’ll draw it from her bones to produce eggs.

But the thing is, she doesn’t need to eat her own eggs to gain this nutrition back. Chickens have been domesticated for thousands of years, and in this time we’ve perfected their diet. There are many fantastic feeds on the market tailored specifically for a laying hens needs! She should be fed a pellet or mash diet, this ensures she gets the correct amount of all the nutrients, whereas with grain she can pick and chose parts and become deficient. Furthermore, chickens aren’t stupid animals. A hen will know if she needs more calcium, and this is why it’s important to offer them oyster shell, limestone, and crushed egg shells so she can eat extra calcium at her leisure.

Sceptical of the feed, or maybe you just think she deserves those eggs back after all her hard work? Well while it’s nice to treat your hens to an egg every now and then, too many can cause many fatal health issues. If she eats every single egg she lays, AND eats a nutritional balanced diet, she’s getting way too much of those nutrients since the feed is already replacing that loss. A really big concern is that she’ll put on too much weight from all the protein in eggs, this can lead to fatty liver disease which kills many backyard hens annually. Maintaining a good weight in your flock is vital to preventing other health issues too such as egg binding and heart failure.

I love letting my hens eat raw eggs, it’s hilarious and they love it. However I actually had to stop because one of my hens Sooty got dangerously overweight and was at risk of fatty liver disease. You might think feeding hens back their own eggs is great for their health, but it should be in moderation, there is too much of a good thing. Unless you’re feeding your hen rubbish, she doesn’t need the eggs since her diet replaces those nutrients daily, and please don’t feed your hens rubbish.

6) We are using the hens. They are not ours to use as we please

I suppose this point holds up depending on your personal beliefs. I personally don’t feel pet hens are being ‘used’ at all, rather it’s a mutually beneficial relationship. We give them food, safety, and friendship, so they return that friendship and sometimes eggs.

A part of domestication is that the animal adapts to living alongside us, with chickens it just happened to be the constant access to good food and a safe nest encouraged them to lay more eggs. We can’t change that now, so we may as well use the eggs. A dog or cat domesticated for companionship will provide that, are we abusing those pets as well by taking their companionship?

Also if I’m being quite frank, no one will ever get eggs cheaper by keeping backyard chickens. Feed is expensive, coops are expensive, veterinary care is expensive. Anyone getting backyard hens will have some other motive to it rather than just “I want free eggs” because these eggs aren’t free. Most people want a pet, they don’t want to support the factory farming, or they want to feel more self sufficient, maybe all three of those reasons! People aren’t getting backyard hens with the intent of ‘using’ them for eggs, because it’s cheaper just to buy eggs.

So to sum this up, backyard eggs aren’t hurting the hens! If anything, it’s helping them! Showing support for more ethical means of egg production will put pressure on the large scale egg farms to change ways. Hopefully these unethical practices will be phased out one day, it’ll take time, but one step at a time.

Thanks for reading! Epponnee says this egg is for you, they’re tasty and she wants to share! Please take it or she will keep crowing until you do!

[flightfoot]

When trying to craft a character-centric story, one that revolves around developing and exploring a character and their personal story, it can be a challenge. That challenge gets even harder if you want to introduce a decent-sized supporting cast, and a limited amount of space in which to do all of this. 

Do you:

A. Focus as much as possible on 1 or 2 characters, the main protagonists, and have most other characters exist to further their stories? It allows for the chosen characters to have the maximum amount of development, since so much screentime is devoted to the them, but leaves all the other characters to pick up their table scraps, development-wise, only existing to serve the leads.

or

B. Give all the characters separate stories and arcs, maybe not as fleshed out or long as the protagonists, but enough that you get the sense that they’re their own characters and have their own stories, that you can care about them as well. This one is favored by a lot of longer stories and series with ensemble casts. It comes with some downsides though: less screentime can be devoted to everyone’s individual journey, and while one person’s facing their inner demon, going through their conflict, the other characters’ development is put on hold. Furthermore, it can make the narrative feel disjointed, less streamlined. It works well for an adventure story, but not always as well if the work revolves around a central theme or message that the different characters’ journeys are supposed to help convey.

Reading Trials of Apollo, I realized that there’s another way to achieve some of the aims of A, with having a central theme and message conveyed through character arcs, especially while developing a singe central protagonist, while not relegating other characters to only serving that protagonist’s story - at least directly.

Have the other characters’ stories expand on some similar themes to the main protagonist’s story.

That way, the side characters can have their own stories and development while still furthering the protagonist’s character arc.

For instance, in Trials of Apollo, Apollo learns from various other character’s struggles, realizations, and development, even though those characters didn’t exist FOR him - indeed, many of them are previous protagonists who are simply developing further from the decent amount of development they already had. Not that they’re the only ones, there are some characters who debut in TOA who he learns from as well. But it helps to illustrate that while these characters have arcs that parallel and inform his, they don’t exist to serve him.

Spoilers for Trials of Apollo below the break.

Book 1: Meg... Ok Meg’s is an outlier, since she’s Apollo’s partner throughout the series, and her entire arc about coming to terms with her adopted “father” being her abuser and breaking free from him is a very close and obvious parallel of Apollo’s own arc of breaking away from Zeus.

Book 2: Lit and Calypso. Lit feels like he doesn’t deserve the second chance and kindness Apollo, Jo, etc show him, especially since he tried to murder them all. Honestly Lit’s story parallels Apollo’s mostly in how other people react to him with kindness even when he’s done nothing to deserve it, and in how he became fiercely protective of his new family as a result.

Calypso parallels a different aspect of Apollo’s journey. She’s ALSO a mortal immortal like he is, just let out of the golden cage of her island, and struggling to cope with the change. 

Book 3: Jason and Piper. Jason’s more direct, with specifically tasking Apollo with remembering what it’s like to be human, since he’s certain he’ll die. At least, he’d rather die than let Piper do so. He doesn’t WANT to die, but he makes peace with his mortality if it’s to protect his friends.

Piper’s dealing with insecurity and uncertainty, not knowing who she is or how to connect with her roots. Hera’s meddling with her love life leaves her uncertain how much of her initial attraction to Jason was real and her own choice, and with also trying to figure out what her being native american, being cherokee, means to her, she’s feeling very lost. Piper’s left wondering who she is outside of what others expect her to be, and who SHE expects herself to be - an identity crisis that Apollo becomes very familiar with.

Book 4: Frank and Reyna. Frank reclaims his destiny, setting light to his own greatest vulnerability in order to save the camp, something that should have killed him... and yet doesn’t, setting him free instead. It doesn’t make much sense from an in-universe lore perspective and seems almost hand-waved, especially with Apollo’s speculation that by willingly facing death the way he did, he took charge of his own destiny and made his own fate, which undid the whole “tying his fate to a stick of wood” thing. It makes a LOT more sense when seeing it as foreshadowing and further theme-building for Apollo’s journey, for how he had to take control of his own destiny.

Reyna’s also been dealing with other people’s expectations, especially about her love life. That she needs to or should get together with someone, that they’ll “heal her heart”. It’s something she struggled with throughout HOO as well, especially with feeling as lonely and isolated as she did and needing support. The ending of Tyrant’s Tomb had her realizing that she doesn’t need to conform to anyone else’s ideas about romance, that she can figure it out in her own time. It doesn’t reflect as directly on Apollo’s arc as some others, but it follows the same “reclaiming your destiny and being who you are regardless of other people’s expectations” theme.

Book 5: Lu. She cared for Meg, but didn’t help her escape before this point, instead just helping make her time with Nero more bearable, try to make things better where she could, like by faking Meg’s “kills” of various people Nero wanted dead. But she didn’t quite have it in her to take Meg and run, not yet, since Nero had been her benefactor for centuries at that point. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t do it - not yet. And while Apollo didn’t trust her at first, he DID understand her not standing up to a tyrant on whom she depended, since he didn’t stand up to Zeus often either. 

There’s more to these character arcs of course as well as additional characters with arcs that parallel Apollo’s own, but these are the main ones that I hope get my point across. Having other characters’ arcs parallel the main protagonist’s arc in some way so that the protagonist can learn from them or have some particular theme explored further can be a very effective way of showing character development for a wide range of people without sacrificing the main protagonist’s own development time or having those other characters’ merely serve the protagonist’s arc.

[dangermousie]

CFC Chapter 54

“A crashing car?” Ahahahaha I see you, Meatbun. But it was indeed an utter pileup!

I know I commented on this passage in its various iterations eight billion times already but I still have more to say. And it’s that XQC taking so long to realize that even though HY is young, his emotions and feelings are as genuine and strong as those of anyone older is so realistic - people do tend to think that especially with regard to children - think of a reaction of an adult to a three year old crying over ice cream they dropped. It’s all amused even if not meanly so. Because to an adult with vastly more experience, this is not a big deal. But what that forgets is that whether it’s ridiculous to someone else or not, to the person at issue that is a real feeling, AND that of course a person can only feel through the lens of their experience - what else is there? Emotions aren’t any less valid because they are informed by lesser or different experience.

Honestly, to me so far this is one of the driving messages of the novel - everyone is in their own world of issues and pain and none of these characters can truly look through the lens of another person and it would be so much better if they did. To XQC, for so long, He Yu’s strong feelings (and we know so many of these feelings are awful - despair, and self-loathing, and loneliness) never quite felt real and therefore never quite felt fully valid. And by the time it wasn’t the case, it was too late.

But the same is true for He Yu - he is so concentrated on his own grievances and his own pain, he cannot perceive others’ different issues. In He Yu’s mind, he’s the winner and always champion of Misery Olympics and while he’s had a horrible time of it, that doesn’t mean other people didn’t either just in different ways. Whether because of his condition, his issues or just his age, HY is not empathetic in the least.

And think about it - XQC does not have a horrible illness. He does not have unfeeling parents. But he had to watch his beloved parents brutally murdered in front of his eyes at 13 (!!!!) and then had to raise a 5 year old by himself. Is it worse or better than HY’s trauma? That’s a matter of opinion but what there is no question about is that is a different type of trauma and a different type of scar. Or think about the patient in the asylum whose name I am too lazy to look up - her life is such a theater of horrors that to me, it makes the combined issues of HY and XQC seem small, though once again that’s subjective. Nobody wins when people start this sort of competition.

My heart breaks for XQC but also - I am sorry - if/when HY x XQC hook up again (how? I have no idea! But that is one of the joys of Meatbun - I both have no idea how/where it’s going and utterly trust her), please have He Yu read up and learn things because Good God. You should not be in major pain the morning after unless you are into pain and XQC clearly is not!

The other thing is the bit about XQC forcing himself to walk in his usual ramrod-straight manner is the moment I went utterly gone for him. I mean, I liked him and found him interesting before. But this is the thing that flipped that invisible switch for me and I went rabid and irrational and now I am Team XQC and I don’t care what he wants and does from now on, he should have it. It’s so small but so real. My mother and her mother were both big on straight posture. And one of the reasons they gave was when you walk with good posture - you look confident but also it makes you feel confident and stronger. And I’ve actually found it to be true - when you throw your shoulders back and straighten your neck and hold your head up, it does not just give others a signal, it gives a signal to your own brain. So to see XQC insist on doing it, despite being emotionally and physically shattered - because of his pride refusing to give up, because he’s so unbending, but also this being some sort of instinctive armor, just hits straight through the heart.

OK, I laughed at HY as a fucking machine. But also, this is another point in the whole “everyone has issues” narrative and HY’s life could be worse. HY, with all his other issues, can pay an insane amount, an amount that XQC could not pay in a million years, so easily. It’s not even a blip to him. Hell, the fact that he forgot to pay speaks to that - I can see forgetting to pay a friend a couple of bucks back right away because it’s not much money. HY forgets because it does not loom in his mind. And this rich lifestyle is instinctive, is ingrained in him. I think he’d find it hard to be poor.

THAT is what he’s thinking about? Priorities are...

The sole good thing that came out of this insanity is that XQC is getting in touch with his emotions, even if those emotions are (rightly) rage. He’s too closed off from them normally.

The fact that you slept with a man should be secondary to the fact that you drugged and raped him, but here we are...

To me, this sums up He Yu as a moral wasteland. To still, when sober and past his fit and not under influence of wine, to still feel excitement over his revenge and to somehow twist it that it’s XQC’s fault for being raped by He Yu is !!!!!!!!!

(I suppose if I were charitable, I’d assume that the disquiet is small stirrings of almost dead conscience and his “he deserved it” is an attempt to justify the unjustifiable to himself, but I honestly don’t want to think so because I am so angry at him. Not until I see some more evidence. I don’t feel like being indulgent with He Yu since he’s indulgent with himself enough for two.)

1. The fact that you can tell from the picture XQC got taken by a man (I am gonna defer to Meatbun’s expertise here) definitely points to the fact that the pictures are going to be used for something bad later - because if it’s just oh XQC had sex, so what, he’s single what’s the big deal. But like this it becomes a different matter. No idea if it will be used for HY or XQC or both, and by whom (money is on Duan and co, but after the way HY went off, I would never say HY himself won’t use it badly somehow) but knowing Meatbun, it will go for maximum damage.

2. Ruthless? Perhaps. Unfeeling? Hmmmm. I am not He Yu’s biggest fan atm but that’s a wonderfully misleading adjective here. He does still seem to be in shock. And fixating.

3. The whole “hahahaha XQC is a hypocrite when he was all ‘I am not interested in sex’“ is - I am not sure if HY is just short-circuiting (fine) or using a rapist justification/rolling in a sea of toxic toxicity (not fine) because I am sorry, that’s totally like “he/she had a reaction, can’t be rape” writ large. Yeah, sure he had a reaction - you poured drugs down his throat. That has nothing to do with his default preferences or his actual state. THE FUCK?!

Anyway, we end on the whole “u mad bro?” bit and you know what strikes me? HY was all “I am done, we are done, my revenge is complete I don’t care” but here he is, still desperately seeking and craving reaction and interaction from XQC.

I remain utterly puzzled as to how these two will ever be a couple except for a couple being defined as “two mutually homicidal people.” Leaving aside everything else, I am willing to accept HY is in the closet - clearly whatever his orientation is, it includes men. But I do not get that sense from XQC at all. When he’s not drugged, he’s barely interested in sex with anyone and I do not get the sense he’s in the closet either. Chances of anyone, let alone He Yu, who is both a man and someone who raped him to humiliate him, being able to entice him into sexual encounters voluntarily is about the chance of me going to visit Mars. Meatbun loves doing insane things so I can’t wait.

PS I know people use the term psychopath all the time casually but ummm, I think He Yu may actually be one? When he has his father (!!!) on speakerphone, calmly carrying a conversation with the man as he’s raping his father’s friend in the club as he talks (!!!!!) that is...in RL I’d be “team lock him up for life, there is something so basic broken in him that it can’t be fixed.” Like - the hell? The ability to put things on different shelves so much is not in the same country as sane (it makes me think of 2ha and TXJ banging CWN being the curtain while performing court business but TXJ was bona fide clinically insane and also this is worse because this is his actual freaking father omg.) Of course, only time will tell whether it’s evidence of him being irreparably incapable of normalcy in terms of living in the world/interacting with others or it was an extreme psychotic (in casual parlance not medical one) break because most people are capable of truly horrific stuff if certain levers are pushed and his default is saner. It’s the question, isn’t it? Whether He Yu’s factory default setting is the monster of the previous chapters or the kid who’d cut his wrists so as not to hurt others.

Anyway, this novel is a terrifying roller coaster ride and I love having strong emotions.

[mochikeiji]

𝐖𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝐤! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 (*^▽^*) 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

what is this?

五月 - May

𝐆𝐨! 𝐆𝐨! 𝐆𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 — (inspired after Go! Go! Gojou!) in celebration of this milestone this month of May, requests for the event are now open!

rules / notes

↬ Below are the listed characters that I will be writing for the event; (reminder that these are the only characters I'm currently used to. I have trouble writing for the ones that aren't in the list ^^)

Characters I accept ↴

✧ Haikyuu: Kuroo Tetsuro

✧ Jujutsu Kaisen: Ryomen Sukuna, Megumi Fushiguro, Inumaki Toge, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento, Okkotsu Yuta

✧ Yuukuko no Moriarty: Sebastian Moran

↬ For this event, I accept only; fluff, angst, hurt/comfort genres!(if ever I might add some suggestive ones, but not as far to nsfw) You may specify what kind of scene you would want to happen!

↬ Simply pick a number from the list below (maximum of 3 prompts) and 1 character of your choice.

↬ Important note: this is my very first event so I'm thinking ahead of the possible outcomes. One, is that there's a high chance I may be delayed in publishing the requests due to them being many or the usual, lack of inspiration and the right mind. Two, like anyone else, I have the right to decline a request if I cannot proceed to write or crank out an idea or generally having a hard time. I write for fun, not as an obligation. Please do not feel bad though! Your requests will serve as a suggestion that may still help me along the way ^^ please please do be patient with me as I will do my best to write for you guys. ♡

event status:

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝!

chip chip! ˎ₍•ʚ•₎ˏ

❝coincidentally I started running this blog back in 2020 of May when I began writing once more. I didn't really think I'd make it this far despite the long hiatus run I've went through and the small amount of stories written. I've had fun sharing whatever I daydreamed every day, it makes my heart soar knowing someone finds comfort in between the words and enjoys them. It's been truly an honor writing for the enjoyment of others and to be able to have fun.

I wish to extend my appreciation and love all the way because these aren't enough to express how I feel right now. Thank you all so much for being so sweet and loving. Supporting and encouraging me all the way. Interacting with me even at the shortest time period. Every thing, I am thankful for. I hope to continue on writing and sharing my ideas for you all to find joy in and to meet more of you on this journey ♡ thank you for being one of my reasons to fall back in love of what I've lost before.❞

prompt list:

1. "You don't mean that, right?"

2. "Even in this life, it's still you"

3. "Don't lie to me"

4. "You're really pretty"

5. "Don't look at me like that"

6. "No, don't cover your smile"

7. "Can you do that again?"

8. "Say something, please"

9. "I just love you"

10. "Do you really want this?"

11. "I'm so sorry"

12. "Please don't cry"

13. "I'm always here for you"

14. "Never in my life have I loved someone this hard"

15. "I don't want someone else, I want you!"

16. "My daily dose of happiness!"

17. "Let's be greedier"

18. "I've lost so many before, I'm not about to lose you too"

19. "Do you still love me?"

20. "You think too much"

21. "Hug your boyfriend/girlfriend!"

22. "I really want to hold your hand"

23. "I don't like the way he looks at you"

24. "Stay longer"

25. "Would you notice if I was gone?"

26. "I would give up everything if it means having you by my side"

27. "Hey, look at me. Keep your eyes open"

28. "Are you jealous?"

29. "I didn't mean it"

30. "You're the only person I'd always run to"

31. "How'd you fell in love with them?"

32. "You idiot, why would you do that?!"

33. "I don't need you to solve every thing! I need you to understand!"

34. "I need you because I love you"

35. "My baby is so cute!"

36. "Let's have another one"

37. "You want to go out now? At 2am?"

38. "You make me the happiest"

39. "Promise me you'll stay with me"

40. "Wake up"

41. "Kiss me"

42. "Don't leave me"

43. "You made this for me?"

44. "Did I do something wrong?"

45. "You're too close." "I can get closer"

46. "I'll protect you with all my life"

47. "Everything I am, I own, is all yours"

48. "I didn't think it was possible to fall in love again"

49. "Mine." "I know but can you let me go?"

50. "Oh, sorry. You were so cute I had to kiss you"

51. "Do you think you'll blush more if I do this?"

52. "Why can't it be just us for once?"

53. "You're the only source of happiness I don't ever want to disappear"

54. "Stop it"

55. "Are you drunk?"

56. "You look like my husband/wife"

57. "Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster"

58. "You're squeezing me." "I just really need to hold you"

59. "I heard you like bad boys." "You have a bad personality, no cap"

60. "Give me a chance"

61. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm with you"

62. "You're nervous? Why?" "Because I really wanna be with you"

63. "Don't scare me like ever again!"

64. "I thought i was going to lose you"

65. "Let me stay for the night"

66. "Bestie please." "Who the hell is bestie? I only know baby"

67. "My world is full of color thanks to you." "I thought you ate a crayon."

68. "I'm trying to be romantic here"

69. "Someone misses me" "I really do"

70. "Can we get married now?"

71. "You looked so angry" "They hurt you"

72. "Do you see that? That there is a beauty and all mine"

73. "You smell so good"

74. "Can I kiss you?"

75. "I knew you love me!" "I do" "What?"

76. "Fess up, which one of you did this?"

77. "Pay attention to me"

78. "Believe me you have no idea how much you mean to me"

79. "Dang someone french kiss me" "Okay let's go."

80. "May I have this dance?"

81. "I'm not going anywhere"

82. "Make a wish"

83. "Wanna maybe go out on Saturday or something?" "Sure!" "Wait what?"

84. "What time is it?" "It's loving times, now come here."

85. "See this? This is my hand." "Why are you holding mine?" "It's MY hand"

86. "I hate you"

87. "What are you looking at?"

88. "Don't take anything away from me anymore"

89. "It's so good to be home"

90. "I love you!" "..." "Say it back!"

91. "I'm gonna go have a long, warm bath" "There room for one more?"

92. "Did you just take a picture of me?"

93. "Comfortable there?"

94. "Is that my shirt?" "You just want an excuse to touch me."

95. "I don't want to be alone again"

96. "It'll always be you"

97. "So poetic" "I know, I got it from google"

98. "Please, I see the way you smile at him/her"

99. "Give me some sugar"

100. "Perfect. So perfect."

— 楽しい時間をお過ごしください！

[juniorgman187]

Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Reid Fic)

*MY GIF

Summary: Despite her engagement to someone else, Spencer grapples with the reality that he’s in love with SSA Reader when he sees her in her wedding dress.

A/N: I am so fucking proud of Spencer’s speech that I wrote.  Playlist: Till Forever Falls Apart by Ashe + FINNEAS This song hurts so good :,) Category: Fluffy happy ending! Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: possible unrequited love, soft angst  Word Count: 6k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Call it a superpower or a sixth sense, but I had this inexplicable, preternatural ability to detect when we weren’t heading in the right direction - a skill unaffected by even shut eyes or the deepest slumber. 

It seems as though after all these years of being (y/n)’s passenger, my body has developed a survival adaptation in order to offer her guidance before she would even have to ask, or worse - lower her pride and admit she’s lost! 

With as hard-headed as she is, she’d sooner drive us to Timbuktu before asking me for help.

I was half-asleep when I peeked through one half-lidded eye to observe where we were only to see she blew right by Gregory Boulevard when she should’ve turned left on it. 

“Um, you should make a u-turn at this next light,” I gently advised her before returning my head to its previous position perched on my hand. I closed my eyes again with the presumption she would follow my navigation and make a u-turn, but when I didn’t feel the car change course, I opened them to see that she blew right past the stoplight, too. 

“Hey, my apartment’s that way.” I gestured behind us while looking at her for the first time, catching a smug look on her face. That’s when I knew I was in for it. “Where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see.” 

“You know I don’t like surprises,” I grumbled, slumping back into my seat with partially renewed energy. Her little antics never failed to get my heart racing. I never knew whether to expect a sweet sunset or a sea of snakes when it came to her. She was that polarizing. “Can I at least get a hint?” I egged on, considering she had yet to even reply to my first statement. 

She was completely unfazed by my pleading. She didn’t even peel her eyes away from the road - that’s how little attention she thought I deserved. “Mmm depends. What’s the magic word?” 

This blatant tease was successfully getting a rise out of me. “Pleaseee,” I dragged out the word as if it would do me any good to let her hear it for longer, but in reality, she just liked to hear me beg. 

She took a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth, a chupse, to express her displeasure before saying, “Ooh tough luck. The magic word was actually mushroom, but nice try.” 

A mirthless chuckle escaped me for willingly falling for her tricks despite knowing she’d pull something just like that. This girl was the bane of my existence, but at least she still rewarded me with a hint anyway. 

“Your hint is …” While pondering what hint to give me, her eyes traveled to the side, away from the road long enough to make my heart palpitate in a “if-she-doesn’t-pay-attention-to-the-road, we’re-both-gonna-die” kind of way. 

“... something old.” 

Again, she tore her eyes away from the road so she could register my reaction, but truthfully, I didn’t have one. I had no idea what that hint meant. Or rather I had too many ideas, far too many to limit to just one. 

She could’ve been talking about the age of a location, the history of a place, the vintage appearance of something - virtually anything.

“There’s an infinite amount of possibilities about what that could mean,” I argued. “If you actually want me to guess, you’ll have to give me something more.” 

As expected, she was not a fan of my whining and simply rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, stop complaining and use that big brain of yours. I’m sure you’ll figure it out before we even get there.” 

Although there was a high probability she was right that I could’ve solved it by myself, it was more enticing to feed off of what she could give me. “What if I ask you ‘yes or no’ questions?”

The gears in her head were turning as she weighed the pros and cons of humoring my offer. “You better ask some good questions then,” was her answer, which was the long way of saying yes. 

“Is this ‘something old’ an object?”

She hesitated, then decided on, “No.” So I took that as maybe. 

“Is this ‘something old’ a place?” 

There was no indecision with this answer. “No.” 

“Is this ‘something old’ as in appearance?” 

Again, a partial hesitation, but still ultimately a, “No.”

Realizing I pretty much exhausted the tangible, I settled for something more abstract. “Is this ‘something old’ a concept?”

“Yes, you could say that.” 

Her answer would prove to be redundant, as just seconds after we would arrive at our mystery destination. 

Ellie’s Bridal Boutique. 

“Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.” I recited to myself under my breath when I finally unearthed the meaning. The rhyme was a wedding tradition that referred to the things a bride is supposed to wear on her wedding day that’s meant to provide protection and prosperity for the new couple - a superstition.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” She mimicked the sound of a winning buzzer. “And you are going to be my something old.” 

A short chuckle left me as I stepped out of the car. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do - wear me?” I jested. 

“Well you are a very pretty boy, but I don’t know if you’re pretty enough to wear down the aisle.” 

“So then how am I going to be your something old? I’m only two years older than you.” 

She stopped dead in her tracks on the sidewalk to reach for my hand. I’d be lying if I said the chilling warmth of it didn’t make my breath hitch. My eyes fell to where our bodies met, but they rose to look at her again when she finally spoke. 

“You’re the very first person I met when I started working in the BAU, which makes you my oldest friend on the team, and since you were the first one that saw me, I wanted you to be the first one that saw me in my dress, too.” 

I was already aware that she’d picked out her wedding gown months before, so this appointment couldn’t have been anything more than an alteration update. The only reason I knew that, besides the obvious, was because I could still remember with perfect clarity the morning she came into work after her fitting. She marched right up to my desk to wave a picture of her in the garment right in my face. It wasn’t until I drew back with my head that I could see the image clearly. The dress, while incredibly stunning on her, ‘didn’t fit right’ - her words, not mine. 

“But that’s not how it’s actually gonna look on me. I asked them to take in the waist, change the neckline, and alter the length.” She vividly described to me, letting her finger run over the digital photo of the dress as she spoke. “Do you see what I mean?”

I lied when I said, “Yeah, I do,” because really, I didn’t need her to describe the details to me - I could already see the vision. Even if the dress was the wrong color, length, and ‘poofiness,’ I’d still think she’d look lovely. 

It was my only hope that her future husband would think so, too. 

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here for my alteration with Reagan at 4.” Just as quickly as she introduced herself to the receptionist, she was being whisked away by an older woman who seemed to have recognized her. 

“Oh, (y/n)! It’s so good to see you again! Come, come, your dress is ready. I just know you’ll love it.” 

Before she slipped out of my vision completely, (y/n) turned around to address me. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just wait here.” 

I raised my hand in the air to give a short acknowledgment goodbye and followed her instruction to sit in the chair that lied directly in front of a circular raised platform. 

“Are you the groom?” A soft voice from beside me suddenly asked. I looked up to see it was the receptionist holding a tray with a glass of champagne. 

“Oh, I’m okay thank you,” I denied the alcohol with a shake of my head. “And no, no I’m not. Just an … an old friend.” Again, her words, not mine. 

It would come as a surprise to both me and you that with as much as I know about the world, I had no idea how long this would take before I saw her again. With my estimates, it should take maybe fifteen minutes maximum before she walked out in her dress, but who knows? It’s (y/n) after all. She runs on her own clock. The sun rises and sets on her. 

At least in my world it does. 

By around minute 17, I realized my estimates were way off and there was no way she’d be coming out any time soon, so with all that I could do in that store having been done already, the only thing left for me to do was read. Nothing of quality, though. Just those frivolous bridal magazines on the coffee table beside me. I didn’t even want to think about the germs and bacteria that were harboring on these reading materials, but if it meant it’d cure my boredom then perhaps the contraction of microbes would be worth it. 

To say I wasn’t well-versed in fashion would be an understatement and reading the subscriptions only emphasized that further. To put it in perspective, you could style my future bride in a medieval frock and it wouldn’t discourage me whatsoever because I simply have no understanding of what a ‘good’ wedding dress is, therefore, I cannot make an accurate comparison. 

Take, for example, the dress on page 17 of Modern Bride. The model was donning a high neck, long sleeve creme satin dress. I thought it looked quite nice and classic, but the excerpt described it as totally out of style and too old - a faux pas.

But when comparing that dress to the gown on page 24 of The Bride’s Guide, I couldn’t spot a single difference between the two, yet this passage was written in complete adoration. “This dress is vintage done right,” said the article. But to me - they were exactly identical! What was wrong with the first one?

Maybe it was a good thing grooms weren’t allowed to help pick wedding dresses because if I had to assist my bride in picking her’s, then, of course, it would be bad luck! I’d probably pick something utterly horrendous!

I had to admit it was slightly humiliating to confront my incompetence relating to wedding dresses, so before my self-esteem plummeted any further, I set the magazines back in their rightful place on the coffee table so they could once again be what they were always intended for - extraneous decor. 

With a flick of my watch, I noted the period of waiting had only increased by three minutes. Again, I had yet to master the art of wedding garment fittings, but how was 20 minutes not enough time to put a dress on? However, unlike my better half, I had (relatively) zero problems admitting my ignorance, whereas she’d rather drive us off a cliff or into a lake before letting me know she was lost. 

In surrender to my lack of knowledge, I rose from my seat to approach the receptionist and ask if she had a more accurate estimate for how long it would be until I saw (y/n) again. But as it turns out, any estimate she might’ve been able to tell me would’ve been completely wrong for she wouldn’t have even been able to finish her answer before the aforementioned future bride entered the space behind me. 

Remember before when I said I had no gauges of good fashion to outrank a medieval frock? Well, I stand corrected. 

(Y/n) in her dress is what I will measure everyone against. And no one will ever compare. 

“Wow…” The word came out of my mouth before I could think to stop it. My tone was so honest that it scared me. “I’m - You’re …” I was at a total loss for words that I had to sit back down to hopefully regain some clarity. She laughed at my stupidity with a laugh so gentle, I couldn’t not laugh back. 

“That good, huh?” 

I wordlessly nodded while my mouth lied openly in waiting. But the right words never came out; there just weren’t any that could capture this vision of perfection in front of me. 

My mannerisms had clearly already given away the true level of my admiration, so in an effort to lessen the enormity of my obvious wonderment, I reluctantly broke my gaze away from the angel in white and picked up a magazine on the table to perfect the notion of nonchalance. 

“You look . . .” She impatiently waited for my addition, even doing the most adorable little twirl in her dress to give me the full view in the meantime. “Nice,” was the adjective I settled for, as it was such a thoughtless response that perhaps it would convince her that there weren’t a million thoughts on my mind. The most recurring one, and arguably the most troubling one being: I think I’m in love with you. 

“Nice?” She repeated like the word stung her tongue, more out of mock offense than earnest disappointment. “You’re reading your magazine upside down so it’s gotta be better than nice.”

I bashfully looked down to find that, sure enough, her words were true. The magazine was upside down and therefore a total revelation of just how ‘nice’ I really thought she looked.

I tried to hide my smile behind my knuckles as I pressed a fist to my lips, deciding on the most sincere compliment I could give her. 

“Nobody holds a candle to you, (y/n),” I nodded in affirmation. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

After saying so, I nonchalantly - well as nonchalantly as one could when caught slack-jawed and completely in awe - reoriented the catalog. Had I glanced up even a second later, I might not have caught her reaction to my words and the way they made her smile uncontrollably. I looked back down at the magazine with a smirk, giving it a brief flick to open up the pages all the way to me and parrot the motions one would make if they were actually reading.

We both knew I wasn’t though. 

It seemed I never left that wedding boutique because even as we arrived outside my apartment later that day, my mind was still there, stuck on the future bride in her gown.

“Earth to Spencer!” She waved her hand in front of me to grab my attention despite already having it. “We’re here!” She announced. Who was I kidding? She always had my attention. I only wish it didn’t take me this long to realize that the reason she was constantly at the front of my mind was that I loved her.

Nearly about to exit the car, the millionth and one thought rang in my head like a bell - wedding bells, if you will. 

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

At a tantalizingly slow speed, I released the doorknob and turned back towards her.

“...I love you.”

She furrowed her brows and shrugged with her mouth, forming a confused pout. “I love you, too, Reid?” She kind of laughed when she said it, so I knew she thought this was just a friend sending off a friend goodbye, but I couldn’t let her think that’s what I meant. 

“No, not like that.” I clarified with the utmost candor. “I’m in love with you.” I shook my head when I said it which, in any other context, might make you think I was lying, but the shake of my head was merely the physical manifestation of every bone in my body knowing I shouldn’t be saying this, but my heart still having the audacity to do it anyway. 

I confessed with that brutally honest tone again, the one so raw and vulnerable it leaves you nauseous and breathless all at once as you anxiously anticipate the other person’s response to your vulnerability. But I couldn’t even meet her eyes, I was too scared. Even if I had, they would’ve been vacant. Her spirit had vanished from her body, and in its departure left just the shell of a woman who was completely void of color. Her flushed face was a remnant of the shock that paralyzed her and it wouldn’t disappear even as I tried to bring her color back. 

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I wish I had better timing - trust me, I will beat myself up later for not saying it sooner. But I promise you, I am not trying to ruin things between you two and I would never actually try to stand in the way of your wedding - you have to believe me. I want you to be happy and if he’s what makes you happy, then I will live with that. I just had to tell you now because ... if you married him without ever knowing how I felt, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”

This was true - I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t said anything - but now that I have - will she be able to forgive me?

Vacant stares turned into piercing glares that drove, what felt like, a thousand daggers right through my heart. She was looking at me as though I were a stranger - completely unrecognizable to her. 

(Y/n), it’s me. It’s Spencer. Don’t you remember me? My heart pleaded. I’m still the same guy I was before. I’m the first friend you made on the team, remember? I’m your something old. Please, please remember me. 

By the time I came to the woeful conclusion that she wouldn’t reply, at least not now, there was only one question weighing on my heart heavily enough to make me ask it before I left her car. 

“Would it have been better if I didn’t tell you?” 

My question stayed answerless even as I lingered at the door after getting out, waiting for one. I knew I should’ve closed it, but I couldn’t. In many ways, it would’ve been shutting the only open vessel to her, formally closing myself off from our friendship. The possibility of losing her as soon as I walked away was too real, and I wasn’t ready yet.

“Please, (y/n), talk to me.” It was a trending theme to have every word I spoke be underlined by this profound piteousness. “Say something.” Say anything.

“I ... I need to get home,” She quietly whimpered, practically begging me to let her go. Up until then, I didn’t want to, but I suddenly wished I had shut the door sooner so that I might not have had to hear the quiet addition, “To my fiancé.”

The color she was so void of in her face? It seems I must have recompensed, for not only was I crowned her something old that day, but I was also her something blue. 

_ _ _ 

If there were a guidebook on all the things to do as the love of your life’s wedding (to someone else) nears, I’d like to think I was following all the protocol. 

Since my not-so-subtle confession, I had yet to press the subject or force her for an answer to my final question, which I think she was thankful for. I also hadn’t plotted a giant scheme to ruin the wedding, nor did I have any intentions of doing so. 

For all intents and purposes, I was acting as a gentleman (who’s in love with you but whom you’re not marrying) ideally should.

You would think that after my big declaration, (y/n) would do everything in her power to avoid me. It’s what I would’ve done. But she’s no coward. That exact heart of gold I fell in love with made no exceptions. Because even after what I did, she still had it in her to extend her kindness to me. 

She’s stubborn like that, remember? 

And though she was showering me with a treatment I didn’t deserve, it still wasn’t enough for my greedy heart. 

The true pain lied in the pretending. Every day I would have to come to work and talk with her and laugh with her and smile with her - I would have to be her friend … pretending that was all that I wanted and nothing more. 

It was both a blessing and a curse that she was acting just as she always had with me. It may seem weird to have expected, nay - wanted - a different reaction from her, but I just wanted something. At least, if she was angry, then I would know what I said had some effect on her, but she was just so indifferent. Like what I said didn’t matter. 

It’s been said that there is a thin line between love and hatred. Hate and love both seem to be involved in the neural processing of what is sometimes referred to as the arousal effect of emotion - this is a technical term, so arousal can be negative. Scientists studying the physical nature of hate have found that some of the nervous circuits in the brain responsible for it are the same as those that are used during the feeling of romantic love – although love and hate appear to be polar opposites. Therefore, the same brain circuitry is involved in both extreme emotions. So, as strange as it may sound, if she didn’t love me, then I at least wanted her to hate me, just so I’d know she had any passion for me that matched my burning passion for her.

But as it turns out, she would never go on to display signs of hatred or love, for she never acted passive-aggressively, never gave me the silent treatment - nothing. Nope, she just acted as if it never happened. She went on with her life, essentially expecting me to do the same, but how could I carry on with life while she was still carrying half of my heart with her? 

It’s an impossible feat, that - to walk around with half a heart. And it’s one that has not gotten easier with time. If anything, time has made it worse, and the closer we got to the wedding, the more difficult it became for me to hold back. And with this exponential growth, it was only inevitable that the pinnacle of difficulty came right before the wedding. 

Before shit hit the fan, she arranged, or rather insisted, that I give a speech at the dinner rehearsal. That hadn’t changed, despite almost everything else having done so. Up until the minute I arrived at the venue, I could’ve recited that speech a million times, forwards and backwards, in my sleep, or even in Russian. But I lost any ability to form coherent thoughts from the second I laid eyes on her. 

As soon as I opened the door, she stood at the entrance to greet her guests, having taken a radiant form that I could only imagine would not pale in comparison to what she would look like tomorrow on her actual wedding day. That thought alone scared me shitless. 

If this is how beautiful she looked tonight and it was only just the rehearsal, how would I ever be able to resist her less than 24 hours from now when she would be marrying a man I could only dream of being half so lucky as?

“Spencer!” Familiar crinkles formed around her eyes as a result of her gigantic smile when she saw me and hugged me thereafter. Her embrace was strangely tighter and lasted for longer than usual, not that I was complaining, but I had to wonder if she was compensating for something. What’s that saying - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Was she killing me with kindness? That might’ve been wishful thinking though. Because the same flash of indifference I’d been dealt in recent times came back into her face and tone after hugging me. “You’re at table five with the rest of the team.” 

“Oh, thanks.”

That was it? Just a ‘Spencer!’ and then a nudge in the direction of my seat? No questions about my speech? No threatening comments to not say anything that would ruin the charade we’d been playing for months now? Had she forgotten I was even giving a speech?

“Oh, wait, Spencer!” I felt her hand on my shoulder before I heard her voice. “You left this in my car a couple months ago. I’ve been meaning to give it back to you, but I didn’t remember until today.” 

The first thing that raised a red flag was what she was saying. I’d left something in her car? That would imply that I’d forgotten something, and we both knew that wasn’t possible. But the second suspicious element was the matter of what she claimed I’d left behind. She was handing me a book with the back cover facing me. From the looks of it alone, it wasn’t mine. Clearly, it wasn’t mine. I knew every single book that resides on my shelves and this one has never once crossed them. That, on top of the new book smell and the lack of a wear in the spine, was enough to tell me that not only was this a book I’d never read nor was one to grace my bookshelf, but it was most certainly not one I would have left behind.

She was lying. 

She saw the realization dawn on me, but knowing I would mention it, her hand’s grip around my wrist, which I hadn’t noticed was even there in the first place, tightened, sending me a message. 

She knew I saw the deception. There were so many flaws in what she was saying, that she couldn’t have possibly been clueless of them. It was too easy. Or maybe that was by design. She wanted me to figure out it was a lie. But why?

What was she hiding?

The final thing to leave me when she did was her hand. In its place, it had left a a near perfect indentation in my sleeve. How flawlessly it sculpted to her hand told me just how tightly she was holding me. What was she trying to say?

That’s when I flipped the book over to see the cover. 

Can Love Happen Twice?

And right on the inside cover page was scribbled - in a handwriting so distinctive it could only belong to one person and one person alone - “Yes.” 

_ _ _ 

My heart was racing the entire night as I anxiously awaited for the moment to give my speech. Nothing seemed to ease the tension. Not a sip of water, not the loosening of my tie, not the self-soothing bouncing of my leg. But all it took, all it took was one glance from her and suddenly, the storm within me had settled. 

“Next up we have a speech from Spencer Reid!” 

I rose from my seat like a floundering mess, as to be expected, because how can you possibly catch your bearings as you’re about to make a speech to a room full of people?

“H-hi there. I’m Dr. Spen- I’m Spencer Reid. I’ve worked with (y/n) for several years now and - and so I, um, I wrote this speech for her, so, so I’m gonna read it to you all now,” My stammering had gotten the best of me, so before I could unravel into the mess I surely came off as right about now, I spun from my previous position facing the majority to facing only her. I needed to see her. I needed the reprieve of her eyes again, and she was happy to give it to me.

“(Y/n), from the moment I met you, I thought who is she? And I mean that quite literally because I had no idea who you were and why you were there,” Laughter from the crowd erupted, but her laugh was the only one that mattered to me. “But also because there was just something about you that told me I needed to talk to you. I had no idea what that instinct to strike up a conversation with you would lead to, but I trust my gut a little more now because that very intuition gave me one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” 

To my words, an endeared pout formed on her face. She was touched, and I was glad. 

“Over the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years we’ve spent together, I have enjoyed every single measure of time with you. You have taught me more about life and myself than I could have ever learned otherwise - which says a lot,” This once again brought her to laughter. “So I thank you for that, because without you, there would be no one to tell my campfire stories to, there would be no one who could recite Jung or Freud with me, and there would be no one I’d have to correct when they drive down the wrong path,” My own chuckle cut my sentence short. 

“Life with you has simply been made better, and my only hope is that tomorrow, as you get married, you too, will experience that eternal bliss with which you have surely bestowed upon everyone who has had the privilege of knowing you.”

By now both of us were on the verge of tears, hers more apparent than mine as she used the palm of her hand to stifle her sniffles. 

“There is so much more I could say about how great you are, but your favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, has said it best. ‘She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful’,” A tear ran down her cheek as my own eyes welled up beyond their means. “So to you both - may you have a life as beautiful as the bride.”

Even if that life isn’t with me. 

I tuned out all the clapping and cheering, and set my focus solely on her, giving me full liberty to see the way she rose from her chair and escaped the room. Not even shock could paralyze me or stop me from running after her. I sprung so fast into action, which required the maximum amount adrenaline, although I could not credit my speed to the rush, but it was more the exclusive motivation to find her that powered me. The entire time I kept calling out her name as I frantically chased her out of the venue. 

“Spencer.” 

I didn’t even see her there at first, probably because I was half-expecting her to be jumping into a cab or running away from me some more when I found her, but just as before, she made it too easy for me. She was waiting for me, standing there in no spectacular fashion. 

The wind was blowing strands of hair in her face that were not so large so that I couldn’t see the red rings around her eyes that were caused by the irritation and formation of tears. She was simply staring back at me with this look in her eyes as if she wanted to say something. 

In the silence, I could still appreciate how astonishingly gorgeous she was. How badly I wanted her. I would’ve whisked her away and taken her as mine if I knew it would make her happy. But that’s just it - I didn’t know. 

I needed her to say it. So say it. 

Say it, darling. 

Spoken through a congested voice (which spoke volumes in reality because of the mere revelation that she was indeed crying) was the plainest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she vanished back into the restaurant, leaving me to my devices on the sidewalk. 

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. 

_ _ _ 

Perhaps the false confidence in my speech or what little she had to say to me after it or even the hidden message in the book got to my head, but whatever it was, I was feeling suspiciously alright. Luckily, that feeling didn’t deviate even as I made my way to the church. 

Upon arrival, everything seemed exactly as it should be, so consequently the lack of something out of place did not adequately denote what lied just beyond those doors. Or should I say what didn’t?

Much to my mortification, it was a completely empty church. Every pew, though decorated for a wedding, was uninhabited and showed no indications of having been such recently. As I walked further in, the door automatically shut behind me with a loud bang. It would’ve shocked me more had something else not caught my attention already. 

It was (y/n), standing at the altar … completely alone. 

Suddenly, it felt like I’d been drawn in by this invisible gravity, which was now floating me down the aisle. My feet could not carry me to her fast enough.

I was sure this was some kind of dream simply by the way the light gleamed through the stained glass windows, casting banners of golden luminescence on her. It was as if heaven itself had come down with the specific delegation to illuminate the vision of one of its fallen angels. 

“(Y/n)?” My voice reverberated throughout the chapel, ricocheting off the high, painted ceilings and back to me. “Where is everyone?” 

It wasn’t until I reached a certain point in the middle aisle, that I realized her veil had been covering her face this entire time. The angel in white only turned more heavenly when she flipped the veil backward, revealing herself to me. 

It took her a moment to answer, but it was her head that answered first before her mouth did. She began shaking her head slowly, followed by a short, unequivocal, “No.”

As you might imagine, I was dumbfounded. “No?” That answer wouldn’t have made sense in the context of what I had previously asked. 

“No.” She repeated, with somehow even more definitiveness. I decided it was best to stay silent and wait for her explanation. 

“No, it wouldn’t have been better if you didn’t tell me.” 

There was my answer I’d been searching for. 

“God, Spencer - what took you so long?” 

From the breathlessness and the rushed cadence of her voice, I knew precisely what was coming next. She instantaneously abandoned the bouquet she’d been clutching in favor of her hands’ ability to pull me in. The pressure on my fragile skull when our frenzied lips finally met was not a punishment so much as it was a reward. And just as we began to find our rhythm, I slid my hand into her hair, which I began to regret when I realized just how much time and effort probably went into its structuring. I pulled away the moment I felt a carefully placed pin lodged within her hair slip between my fingers. 

True, for a moment I was unable to open my eyes afterward from the sheer elation I was experiencing, but as I came to, I found myself looking at the hairpin I’d accidentally extracted from her curls, one that I could’ve sworn I’d seen a fellow coworker of ours donning in the past. 

“Is this -”

“Yep, it’s Penelope’s.” She admitted through the most debonair giggles. After giving her a quizzical, and only partially judgmental glance, she managed to blurt out, “What? Why are you looking at me like that? It was my ‘something borrowed’!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

reid taglist: @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person 

[bartistic]

Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

[arctickat2400]

Anniversary <> Zayn Malik

It was your 1 year Anniversary since you and Zayn have been together and you couldn’t be happier. You were currently sitting on the couch, awaiting the time to come for you to get ready.

Zayn had said he had a surprise for you tonight, but as always, he kept it a secret and refuses to tell you. You loved surprises, especially if they're from Zayn, but you hate being left in suspense.

This morning, when you had woken up, Zayn was already gone at work, but you had gotten a text from him.

Happy Anniversary, Kitten. Can’t wait for tonight and I can tell you can’t either. I’ll see you at 7. I love you.

Zayn’s text read and you couldn’t hold back a smile. You texted back, returning the Happy Anniversary and the I love You. And, as much as you wanted to spend your entire anniversary with your boyfriend, you couldn’t ‘cause he had work.

So you spent your day around the house, having a kind of lazy day. You had gotten a few sweet texts from Zayn and a call or two from him. He had video called you because he “wanted to see your beautiful face,'' his words exactly. The boys were around him, too, and greeted you with a Happy Anniversary, Y/N, or something along those lines. The boys had given you and Zayn your privacy until Zayn had to go to the studio. You exchanged I love you’s as you both went your separate ways.

Zayn was picking you up around 7 to bring you to the first part of your surprise and you couldn’t wait. You sat anxiously yet excitedly on the couch watching Riverdale in your red and black pj short shorts and a thin sweater as you waited for the time to arrive.

It’s been awhile since you started watching your tv show and you’ve gone through many episodes. You picked up your phone to check the time and you saw it was 5:50. Oh no, I’m gonna be so late. You thought to yourself. You still had to shower, dry, curl and fix up your hair, pick out an outfit and shoes all before Zayn got home.

You paused your tv show, throwing the blanket that covered you off from over you and jumped up, taking your phone and went to search for clothes.

Once you had gotten to your bathroom after finding a pair of underwear and some extra clothes for when you got out of the shower, it was already 6 by the time you turned on the shower. You turned on some music, the boys music because you couldn’t get enough of it.

You sang in the shower as you washed through your hair and cleansed your body. After about 10 minutes, you turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around you. You stepped out of the shower and walked to the bathroom counter. After brushing through your wet hair, you put it up into a braid and began to dry yourself off. You changed into your underwear, tank top and denim short shorts and you checked the time. 6:15.

You let your hair down from your braid, brushing through it once again and beginning to dry it. After, you curl your hair and made perfect bouncy curls that fell over your shoulders. You would have put on makeup like any girl would do for a date, but Zayn hated when you wore makeup, and you did too. So, you never put any on. Maybe a little bit of acne cream and concealer to cover up some barely visible red spots, but that was the maximum amount of makeup you ever used.

It was around 6:35 when you had gotten done with your hair and everything that needed to be done in the bathroom and you walked into your connected bedroom and to your rather large walk in closet. You turned to your side and looked through your dresses. You tried to choose between a short pink and white floral dress with a puffy skirt and a white strapless dress that was longer on your right side and shorter on your left with diamonds outlining the corset that was quite thin and showed off our curves that Zayn like quite a lot. In the end, though you loved both dresses, you went with your favorite, the white dress.

You undressed out of your shorts and tank top and shimmied into your dress and easily zipped it up at the back. You knelt down by your wide variety of shoes and choose between black high heels with a bow strap on it or black strap wedged sandals, you chose the high heels with the bow. It went better with your dress, the white and black going together perfectly.

You slid them on and added a simple heart necklace that Zayn had given you for your birthday along with an anklet that was lined with crosses. You added a few rings that you wore almost 24/7 and you grabbed your phone. 6:55. Right on time.

You go downstairs just as you hear someone coming through the door. You stood on top of the stairs as you look down towards the front door to see Zayn there. He turns around, looking up, and his eyes widen, a spark igniting in his that showed absolute love and astonishment.

“Y/N, my love, you cannot look more beautiful.” Zayn told, a smile on his face as one crawls to your face along with a bright red blush coming to your cheeks. You descend down the stairs as Zayn makes his way to you.

You hadn’t seen him this morning, so you hadn’t seen what he was dressed in. And on your video call earlier, you hardly noticed what he had been wearing. He wore dark black skinny jeans, a white button up shirt and a black sportcoat with a little red handkerchief in the top left pocket. You hated when Zayn or any guy dressed in nice clothes like dress pants or whatever, but what Zayn was wearing, it was what you called nice clothes and you loved it.

You reached the bottom of the stares and Zayn’s eyes never left yours. “You’re not too bad yourself.” You smiled to Zayn as he took your hand in his and spun you around to get a good look from all angles. You giggled as he spun you into his, wrapping his arms around him.

“Happy Anniversary, baby. I know I already said it, but I wanted to tell you in person.” Zayn told you, smiling as he stared you seductively into your eyes, his face mere centimeters from yours. You just laughed softly, setting your hands on either side of Zayn’s cheeks as he leaned you back in his strong arms and pressed his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss as he did so.

Zayn brought you back up and held you against him still as he looked you in the eye.

“You ready to go, princess?” He asked sweetly. You nodded as he pressed his lips against your forehead, took your hand in his and lead you to the car. You pulled into what looks like the front of a super expensive restaurant. There were some men in uniforms waiting outside, maybe valet’s, as you pulled up beside them. Zayn was first to jump out of the car as you got ready to get out of the car yourself. Zayn ran to the other side of the car, handing his keys to the valet, and opened your door for you, holding his hand out for you to take. You obliged as you smiled, stepping out of the car, entwining your arm with Zayn’s as the valet drove off with your car.

As Zayn led you up to the restaurant, it looked familiar to you, and you realized it was Galvin at Windows, a very expensive modern French restaurant that you’ve always wanted to go to. Yes, Zayn of course has a lot of money, but this was the kind of place you go to for a special event, and it was your anniversary. You were so happy that Zayn brought you here.

“Zayn, this is amazing,” You paused looking around as you walked inside the beautiful place. “I can’t believe you got a reservation here.” It was also a very busy place, so it was hard to get a reservation, especially on a Friday night.

“Well, I had to bring my very special girl to a very special place. And I knew how much you’ve been wanting to come here.” He smiled at you as he covered you hand with his, the hand that was set on his arm. You just leaned up and pressed your lips against his cheek.

Being the next in line, you walk up to the stand where the host, a woman in a fancy dress stood, looking up at you two with a sweet smile.

“Good evening, do you have a reservation?” The host greeted and asked. Zayn just smiled back as you smiled up at him.

“Yes, Mr. And Mrs. Malik, please.” Is all he said, and you could’ve sworn his smile grew just a bit bigger. You were confused about the name he put our reservation under. You guys weren’t married, not even engaged. Not yet at least. Maybe it was just easier to say that. You decided not to ask just yet.

“Here you are,” The host grinned, looking down at her iPad with all her reservation information on it. She took two menus, looking back up at us, saying, “Please, follow me.” As she turned, you and Zayn followed hand in hand as she led you two outside under lots a gorgeous lights at the back balcony of the restaurant, giving you an amazing view of the ocean. It was the perfect evening, perfect temperature, not dark just yet, but it was just beautiful.

“It’s beautiful, Zayn. I can’t believe this. We just got here and it’s already been an amazing night.” You told him as you made eye contact with him after looking around your surroundings.

“Well, it’s all for you. And this is just the beginning. And have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? I could just look at you all night.” Zayn smiled towards you, staring into you blue eyes that went quite well with your dress. You just blushed and Zayn couldn’t hold back a slight chuckle at how adorable he thinks you are.

You both look at your menus as your waiter comes by to take your drink orders. You both simply order waters. As you wait for the waiter to come back, you decide to ask Zayn about his choice of reservation named.

“So, Zayn,” You start, leaning your chin on the palm of your hand. “So, Y/N,” Zayn smiles, mimicking your movements. You just giggle, repositioning yourself.

“Anyways,” You sang. “What about that reservation name? What’s that all about?” You question him as you stare into each other's eyes. Zayn just chuckles as he looks down, an uncommon blush coming to his cheeks.

“It’s nothing. I just thought it’d be easier than anything else. And, we’re a couple, so why not?” Zayn answers, leaving a suspicious smile on your lips. You could tell it was something more than that. Just then, the waiter comes back with your waters and a bottle of champagne, which you don’t remember ordering. You both say thank you to the waiter as he asks for your meal orders. You wanted something simple, so you both ordered a burger. They were supposed to be really good and you hoped it would live up to your expectations.

About 10 minutes later, the waiter came back with your meal. After the first bite, you couldn’t get enough of it. It was amazing and probably one of the best burgers you’ve ever had. Throughout dinner, you and Zayn just made conversation about random things, life, the future, stuff you two usually like to talk about. You had already gone through the entire bottle of champagne and for dessert, you and Zayn shared a sweet, rich red velvet slice of cake with chocolate frosting on it. As was the rest of the meal, it was delicious.

After getting the check, and begging Zayn to let you help pay, though of course he didn’t let you, Zayn asked, “You ready to go, princess?” He asked with a suspiciously excited smile on his lips.

“For what?” You ask as Zayn stands and walks to you, taking your hand and lifting you from your chair.

“For the second part of your surprise, of course.” He smiled at you, and you just blushed as Zayn led you outside, hand in hand, where your car was waiting. Zayn opened your door for you after getting the keys from the valet as he ran to his side and started the car, driving off to the unknown.

You stare out the window, wondering where Zayn could possibly be bringing you, as he held your hand in his. Once in a while, a cute or funny thought would come to your mind and you would smile or quietly giggle. Little did you know, Zayn would look at you with a sincere and adoring smile on his face.

You begin to realize where you were and your surroundings, and you saw a little ways ahead the sand and the ocean. You smiled, knowing Zayn was bringing you to your favorite place: the beach.

Zayn takes your hand as you two walk around the beach together, you clutching onto his arm and leaning your head on his shoulder

You walk along the beach barefoot for awhile until your notice the darkness overcoming the sky and the sunset was arriving. Just then, a little in the distance, you see a few people, even though it’s about 9 at night and people aren't usually at the beach past 8. But, as you walked closer, you recognized the people to be the boys, Harry, Louis, Liam and Niall. They stood next to a burning fire beside a heart shape made of red rose petals. This was certainly a surprise to you.

You looked up to Zayn who had a calm, yet happy smile on his face and stared at you sweetly. He led you to the fire and the boys as you let go of Zayn and ran to the boys with a huge smile on your face.

“Guys, this is beautiful. Who did this?” You questioned as you hugged each of the boys, starting with Niall and going down the line, them all whispering sweet things in your ear like Happy Anniversary or whatever.

You got down the line and when you wanted to hug Harry, you realized he had disappeared somewhere without you noticing.

“Y/N,” You heard Zayn’s soft quiet voice as you turn around from the boys to see him holding a bouquet of red roses, your favorite. You see Harry beside him about to walk away back to the rest of the boys. Harry had a sweet smile on his as he stared at you lovingly. You eyes meet with Zayn’s again as you walked to him, him meeting you halfway.

“Zayn, you did this?” You questioned, though knowing the answer. You knew the boys were watching, but you couldn’t care less. At that moment, it was as if it was only you and Zayn left in the world.

Zayn handed you the roses as tears build up in your eyes. You smell the roses with a smile on your face, but you realize something different about your flowers. There’s a fake one. You look up at him confused.

“Why is there a fake one?” You asked and Zayn set his hands on your waist.

“When the last rose dies, that’s when I’ll stop loving you. Maybe even after then.” He smiled and shrugged at that last part. You just giggled.

“Zayn,” Is all you said as Louis game up to you and took the roses from you to keep them safe. You thank him and turn back to Zayn, his hands still set on your waist, as you lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he presses his lips to yours.

“They’re beautiful, Zayn. This is all just gorgeous. Thank you so much. And you did this all for me. I can’t believe I was blessed with such an amazing, generous, and handsome, may I add, boyfriend.” You tell him, your hands locked around his neck, his arms around you waist as he held you close. He chucked at the last part of your sentence.

“Well, I’m happy to say that this night isn’t over just yet, my love.” Zayn smiled down at you. You slipped out of each other's grasp as Niall came up and discreetly gave something to Zayn, so fast you didn’t see what it was. Niall places he friendly kiss to your cheek, a blush coming to your cheeks. You turn around towards the boys as Niall reunited with them.

You give your best friends a confused look and they all just smile at you and gesture for you to turn around. You do as commanded and what you saw made you breathless, throwing your hands over your mouth to stifle your oncoming cries. Zayn was knelt down on one knee, a beautiful ring held out in front of him towards you. The tears now started streaming down your cheeks.

“Zayn,” Is all you could say as Zayn began to speak.

“(Your Full Name), I love you so much, and I’ve loved you since the day I laid eyes on you almost 2 years ago. I know you like the back of my hand, and I know you know me better than I know myself. I can’t think of anyone better to live my life with. And I know if you ever left me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, because Y/N, I can’t live without you. You make me so happy and I know I want to live the rest of my life with you. There are so many things I love about you that I just can’t live without. Your laugh brightens my day even on the worst of days. You smile make me so happy, I could look at it all day. Your eyes, I can’t tell you how much I love your eyes. Your eyes bring me to your very soul and they tell your whole story just by looking into them. I could go on and on about how much I love you, but I have my entire life to do that, to make sure you know how much I love you and to make sure your know how beautiful you are, inside and out. I want to spend my entire life with you, have kids with you, take care of you when you’re sick, and give you an extraordinary life. So, (Your Full Name), my love, my one and only, will you let me love you for the rest of our lives, let me hold you in my arms forever? Will you marry me?” Zayn says, and you were almost to the point of bawling at this point. And, of course, you would refuse to say no.

You start nodding, slowly as it gradually sped up. “Yes. Yes, Zayn, of course I’ll marry you!” You screamed that last part.

Zayn stands with a huge smile on both your faces as he presses his lips against yours in a gentle, but passionate kiss, the best you’ve ever had in your entire life. Zayn leans you back in his arms as if it was the last move in a dance number, his lips on yours, as you are held in his embrace.

Zayn lifts you up, releasing your lips as he holds you close. He takes the ring and places it on your ring finger. He looks up into your eyes, his sweet, sincere smile giving you butterflies in your stomach, the feeling that you’ve felt everyday since you’ve met him. He brings you into a tight, sweet hug as you nuzzle your nose into his neck, him nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” Zayn whispers. You couldn't hold back that smile.

“I love you, Zayn, forever. Thank you so much, for tonight and the life you will give me.” You tell him as you back away slightly, your hands on the back of his head as you smooth your fingers through his hair. He stares into your eyes adoringly.

Suddenly, you both hear sniffles from behind you. You both laugh as you turn around in Zayn’s embrace, him looking up over you at the boys staring at you two with smiles on their faces. Louis and Harry were on the verge of tears, Niall was already in tears and Liam was just being his strong normal self as he stared at you two sweetly, his arms crossed over his chest.

You give them all hugs, thanking them for everything they did to help Zayn for that night. You ran back into Zayn’s arms as he swung you around, placing another kiss to your lips. During the kiss, he picks you up bridal style like you’ve seen in the movies as you giggle into the kiss. Zayn brings you home, the generous boys that they are, taking care of everything at your spot on the beach.

The good day you were having turned into the best night of your life, well so far. And you knew you’d have many amazing moments with your new fiancé and soon to be Husband Zayn.

[xlovelyyoongix]

happy birthday | myg

♥ summary: When a birthday foot massage turns into something a bit more interesting 18+ ( established relationship) 

♥ paring: slight dom yoongi! x f. sub reader (established relationship)

♥ warnings: SMUT! swearing, female receiving, multiple orgasms , over stimulation, creampie, squirting and use of a sex toy.

♥ a/n: Not gonna lie I wrote this for myself on my birthday because I’m such a simp for Min Yoongi. Also, I apologize that this post is a day late. I watched Day 1 and Day 2 of the MOTS 7 concert and I was so sleep deprived so please forgive me. Enjoy! Feedback is welcome!  

You always hated being the center of attention, in a room full of crowded bodies with all eyes on you was never your forte. So, when you explained to your boyfriend of 2 years that you wanted a simple celebration of your birthday, he promised you just that. Your special day consisted of breakfast in bed, shopping, a movie, and dinner at your favorite restaurant. To others, a birthday spent like such would be considered a boring one, but for you, a day spent with Yoongi by your side was perfect.

"This was such a fun day!" Your exhausted body pushed through the door for your apartment, dropping your shopping bags on the living room table. "I'm beat!" Kicking off your shoes, your body collapses on the couch, releasing a heavy breath as your lashes flutter shut to relax.

Yoongi closes the door behind him, chuckling at your animated demeanor. "I'm glad you had a great time,__" Before anything else, Yoongi escaped into the back room, only to reemerge with a few items in his hands, an eager smile stretched across his face. "But it's not over yet."

Your lips curve in question, "Huh?" and the moment your eyes blink open, a romantic flickering of dim orange light begins to dance across the apartment walls along with the soothing scent of lavender. Your brows crinkle together, dimples digging into your cheeks upon realizing, Yoongi lit your favorite scented candle. "What's this about?" You pull yourself up with a toothy grin in observance of the scene before you.  

A twinkle of delight shimmers within Yoongi's onyx orbs, taking a seat on the carpet between your legs. "Your last gift of the day." His proud gummy smile gleaming up at you.

It wasn't until Yoongi gently placed your foot onto his lap, removing your socks, that you realized what he was doing. Your cheeks lighten with an innocent hue as his long fingers brush against your tiny toes. "Y-Yoon?" You question, with a rapid heart beat.

"Hm?" He questions, pulling a bottle of oil out of the silk bag only to pour a modest amount into his hand. "You act like I've never touched you before,__" His hooded eyes dart up at you, though only for a second before talented fingers are massaging the warming oil into the balls, arch, and toes of your foot.

"Mhm..." A small moan vibrates from the back of your throat, the newly found pleasure rippling throughout your being, practically melting your body into the sofa. "Feels good~" You purr.

Yoongi takes pride in the blissful expression plastered across your face. "I'm happy you're enjoying yourself." Voice music to your ears as his fingers work between your toes, ankle, and back up the sole of your foot. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

"Okay." Your lashes flutter shut, body loosening up as the soothing scent of lavender sways within your nostrils. Yoongi, being skillful with his hands, takes his time and massages all the spots you seem to like most. He doesn't speak, merely allowing you to fully embrace your very own euphoria.

You're unable to recall a time your body experienced this type of tranquility; with work and school swallowing your livelihood, you're surprised you're able to even manage a relationship with your hectic schedule. Always a paper due, an extra shift that needed to be worked. There were times you barely even had time to sleep...

"SLEEP?!" Realizing your body was a bit too tranquil enough to doze off, your back arches off the couch, frantic eyes darting across the room in search of your boyfriend. Had it already been that long he chose to leave for the night? "Yoongi?"

"Don't worry, you weren't asleep for too long." A teasing smirk pulls across his full cheeks, taking a seat on the floor between your legs again. "Had to wash my hands and get your other present." Unlike before, his demeanor changed. His hooded eyes, a shade darker than normal, tongue lapping across his bottom lip, along with a seductive arched brow. Surely, Yoongi was up to something.

"I thought the foot massage was my last gift." Your head tilts with confusion.

Yoongi chuckles at your obliviousness, placing a pink rectangular box on your lap. "This is just the other part of your present." He nudges you to open it.

You sport Yoongi an -what are you up to- expression, only for your curiosity to become interrupted by the heaviness of the box. What else could he possibly be gifting you with after a day of shopping and dinner? "Okay." Your fingers slowly unravel the bow, careful with removing the lid. The moment your eyes make contact with what's inside, your jaw drops in awe at the objects.

"I saw you googling them a few weeks back. I figured I'd get the set for you." There's a moment of hesitation in Yoongi's tone, your silence instantly forcing him to contemplate his gift. "I-It is what you wanted,.. right?"

Your eyes bounce back to your blonde-haired boyfriend, noticing the doubt trickling across his expression. "Yes, Yoongi, it is!" You praise, heart fluttering that your boyfriend paid that much attention to notice your personal interests. "Thank you so much!" It was a set of 3 clear glass dildos, all shape and length in different sizes, with adorable pink, heart-shaped handles at the end.  

Regaining his confidence, his blond head slips between your legs, lips ghosting over the sensitive spots of your inner thighs. “Ya, know..." Mint breath slapping across your skin, causing a delightful shiver up your spine. "We can test them out right now if you want." His jet eyes cutting dangerously at you before placing a kiss on the spot that causes your abdomen to tense deliciously.  

With the tempting look in Yoongi's eyes and the grip he has on your thighs, your body heats with desire, feminine core throbbing against the now annoying material of your panties. "I-I mean..." You swallow hard, attempting to catch your staggered breath. "D-do you want to?"

A dimple forms in the crevice of Yoongi's cheeks, snickering at your timid question. "Of course I want to, kitten..." He purrs, fingers working to unbuttoning the metal of your jean shorts. "But today isn't about me, is it?" dark eyes rolling up to you while the echo of your zipper tauntingly fills the room.

If you blinked, you would have missed the dark, carnal switch that happened deep within Yoongi's eyes. Clearly, he was ready for whatever the night had in store. You gulp, "No," You answer back modestly but also notice the rising heat growing between your thighs. "It's about me tonight." You answer back with a nod, slightly more confident than last.

Yoongi snickers devilishly at your reply. "Yes, it is." He pulls at your jean shorts, helping you shimmy out of them. Yoongi gestures at your shirt with a tempting bite of his lip only for it to disappear behind you a second later, leaving your body in nothing but a black bra and panties set.

Your boyfriend takes in the magnificent sight of your hair framing around your adorable cheeks, romantic flames of candlelight across your skin and eyes, and your practically nude body that lit a hungry flame within his core. "Fuck..." Unable to hold back any longer, Yoongi lunges forward, harshly gripping onto your thighs as if to hold you in place while his plush lips place rough kisses and love bites along the innards of your thigh.  

"Mhm, Yoon..." Your hips stutter forward, a zap of electricity zipping up your spine, awakening your body with a fevering heat.

As Yoongi's tongue laps across the sensitive parts of your inner thigh, his sneaky index hooks onto the wetness of your panties, slowly sliding down the flimsy fabric before tossing them over his shoulder, not caring where they landed. "Hope you're ready for your gift." His tone holding velvety dominance as his lust-filled eyes peer up at you.

Before you could even mutter a response, Yoongi's crafty tongue laps across your throbbing slit, hands spreading your thighs open for better access. You release a whimper, and the moment his lips latch onto your pulsing clit, your hips snap forward, tongue slipping and sliding between your folds, leaving you a stuttering mess.

Taking his time, Yoongi lapped figure eights around your sensitive nub, large hands cupping at your ass cheeks, sliding you forward into his mouth. "You taste so good, kitten." Words vibrating against your delicate flesh as he spoke.

Even with his tongue moving so deliciously between your slit, body floating into cloud nine, the flame burning inside of you craved more. "S-so good b-but...please~" your walls clenching around nothing in dire need to be stretched. "Inside~." You mewl with a needy wiggle to the edge of the couch.  

Yoongi cocks a brow, peeking up at you while working your marvelous wet pussy. "You can't wait anymore, can you." He teases with a confident chuckle. "Your pussy is always so needy for attention." He cheekily mutters, slowly slipping two long digits into the slick of your folds.

"Fuck!" You yelp at the instant pleasure of Yoongi’s curving fingers locate the spongy surface of your inner walls. Back arching off the couch only to roll deeper into Yoongi's thrusts and tongue. "So good..." Managing past the dryness of your throat to whimper.

Yoongi's fingers pump in and out of your gushy slit with ease, tongue attacking your clit for maximum effect. "I want you to cum." the curve of his digits jabbing at your g-spot. You whimper a moan, walls tightening around his knuckles, sending waves of pleasure through your core. "I want your pretty pussy to cum all over my face, kitten."

Feeling your orgasm quickly approaching, the pit of your abdomen tightens in a knot, tight pussy swallowing long fingers, teasing at your approaching release. "Y-Yoongi..." You pant, fog of tears swelling at the corners of your eyes, cheeks a misty hue with thighs opening as wide as humanly possible for your boyfriend's assault on your pussy. "G-gonna cum.... Uughh." Your fingers thread through Yoongi's blonde tresses with a yank, guiding the male's mouth all the places you need him most.    

Yoongi snickers at the aggression you have with his hair but doesn't let up. Feeling your soaking muscles clenching around his digits, your fucked out expression says it all, that you're ready to burst at any given moment. "Be a good girl," His fingers pick up their pace, assaulting the sweet spots of your insides at devilish speeds. "and cum for me."

As if on-demand, the tight knot built in the pit of your abdomen finally bursts, sending your body into an eruption of pleasure. "FUCK!" Your back arches off the couch, vision clouded with an assortment of colors, legs collapsing into jelly, as your sopping pussy leaks creamy arousal.

Plunging from the high of your orgasm, your exhausted body plops back onto the sofa, glistening sweat built across your brow with lungs heaving for breath. "So good." You murmur with what little strength you have left.

Yoongi snickers at your weakened expression. "We're not done yet,__" His words are sly as he opens the birthday box that contains a multitude of glass pleasure wands. "Which one should I use on you first?" He takes a second to observe, index tapping his chin in thought. "Got it." Picking out the wand, he knew would send you over the edge.

"H-huh?" Before you could comprehend what was happening, a sudden stretching of something strong and firm slips inside you. "Hmhmm." Your body awakens again, teeth digging into the bottom of your lip as your hips unknowingly roll forward, allowing the glass dildo to plug into your soaking slit.

"You almost forgot about this, didn't you?" Yoongi grins devilishly, the deep ridges of the wand satisfying your greedy entrance.

Your body shutters with delight at the feeling, lashes fluttering as your neck rolls back. With your body still processing the high of your first orgasm, you feel a new wave of arousal collapse over you. "You wanna make me cum again, Yoongi~?" Your once shy innocence, now engulfed by the sparks of lust dancing within your hazed eyes.

Yoongi wiggles a brow at your confidence. "You know it, kitten," he answers back almost too quickly. "Let's see what this thing can do." And without the need for direction, Yoongi slips the rigid object back into the hilt of your core, tilting at just the right angle.

"Shiiiiiit." Yoongi picks up his speed, your ass cheeks bouncing on the glass dildo as he rams it in and out as if it were his profession. Your walls take a liking to the newly discovered object, aroused and clutching tightly around the ridged glass, welcoming it deep within your pussy like the slut it was.

Being the generous pussy eater that he was, Yoongi positioned his mouth against your overwhelming heat once again, plush lips latching onto the sensitive nub, nibbling and sucking all the while thrusting your new favorite toy into your shameful entrance.  

A new wave of pleasure zaps through you. "F-fuck, Yoon!" Unapologetically, you grab at your boyfriend's blonde hair, pulling and yanking at the tresses as if your life depended on it. Your brows furrowed together and teeth tugging at your bruised lips as your foggy gaze peers between your legs at the man feasting upon you as if he were starving. "Yoongi, s-so good." Your neck rolls, the familiar tightness in your abdomen returns, threatening to rupture your release.

Your pussy is gushing, sending streams of milky arousal down the shaft of the dildo and onto Yoongi's glistening chin. Even though he couldn't feel your muscles tightening within you, he knew you were reaching the peak of your second orgasm; your words slurred, legs shaking uncontrollably along with the death grip you had on his hair. Yoongi smirks, your incoherent and shaken state, stroking his ego.

Your body uncontrollably humps into Yoongi's mouth, hips matching the rhythm of the glass wand slamming into the wall of your cervix, hitting all the spots you need it most. "P-please..." You're a whimpering mess. "Baby, m-make me cum again...wanna so bad..." Addicted to the taste of release, you plea your boyfriend to fuck another orgasm out of you like that dirty whore that you were.

More than happy to oblige your request, Yoongi stiffens his tongue, lapping over your glistening clitoris at record speed while your soaked pussy sucks in the rigid wand. "Cum,__" He orders with a stern tone.  

As if Yoongi's voice was the switch to your light, the tightness within your abdomen snaps on queue. "Shit!" You're crying out again, white noise clogging the tunnels of your ears as your vision fogs with an explosion of different colors. Your lashes flutter the tears from your eyes all the while attempting to catch your staggering breath as the second orgasm pulls from your body. "W-wow,..." Your nearly horse voice stutters out. "T-that was great I-"

The moment your glossy orbs stutter open, you're immediately met with an immaculate sight. It was none other than Yoongi standing proudly naked before you. Smooth, ivory skin that seemed to glow under the romantic candlelight. A hard chest that sculpted into a lean abdomen, showcasing a happy trail of hair leading down to the object you desired most to see. "We're still not done, kitten," Yoongi smirks devilishly, gripping at the base of his thick shaft, standing proudly.

You gulp, the curve of his impressive dick bobbing against his lower abdomen, thick veins protruding from the sides of its girthy shaft. Hungry, Your eyes follow up to the summit of it's red, angry tip, slit oozing delicious pre-cum. You lick your lips at the sight, aroused walls clenching around nothing.  

Yoongi stands over you, stroking his monstrous dick with a bit of dominance. While he patiently took care of the needs and desires of your body, Yoongi's dick grew angry and more impatient against the fabric of his boxers. Finally freed, it was more than ready to plug deep into the warm, wet sleeve of your walls. "Tell me what you want, kitten." Yoongi's voice dipping an ungodly tone.

"I-I..." You know precisely what you want, for your boyfriend to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk in the morning. The heat and slick of your previous orgasms, still fresh between your legs, ready to be put to good use, but you wonder if your body can take it—the anxious build-up of another orgasm. You swallow hard at the thought, eyes faced with the perfectly crafted perfection, which was Yoongi's hard dick, a erection you didn't want to go to waste. "I w-want." Your eyes flicker back up at Yoongi, shimmering orbs glowing with desire and lust. "I want you to fuck me, Yoongi." Your voice, dripping with confidence.

Leaving no time for his response, Yoongi pens your legs back with a growl, using his free hand to align his angry tip to the soak of your heated entrance. His hooded eyes cut to you, giving one final look, "Happy birthday, kitten." and as quickly as the words fell from his lips, Yoongi sends his hips soaring forward, plugging his dick deep within your walls as if he were a missing piece to your puzzle  

You wince at the sting of his stretch, girth unmatched to any finger or sex toy that could be purchased. "Yoongi~" Due to the multiple orgasms your body endured, the stretch of your entrance was met with a tasteful mix of pain and pleasure. Your orbs slamming shut, releasing a stream of lovely tears from the corners of your eyes.  

"Fuck your so tight." Yoongi grunts, gripping onto your thighs as if to hold you both in place. "So fuckin' wet." He leans in, his button nose ghosting over yours as his lustful jet eyes peer into your glossed orbs. "My perfect peach." It was then his lips forced onto yours, tongue dancing within your mouth to give you the sweet taste of your arousal.

You moan into Yoongi's mouth, welcoming the taste of your own pussy as thick thrusts pump into your core. "S-so good." You're a whimpering mess, hips rutting forward as the song of slapping skin echoes throughout the living room.

Typically, Yoongi was slow and patient when making love to you, but something about watching your pussy orgasm and your lips moaning his name awakened a carnal side of him, hidden deep within his psyche. "Sorry, I'm so rough...mhm." Yoongi grunts, eyes rolling while your juicy walls hug around his hostile dick.  

"I-its okay..." Your fingers grip onto Yoongi's shoulder blades, nails digging into his flesh as he pounded into the spot that made you see stars. "Fuck, just don't stop." Your walls begin to clutch around him, along with the tight build-up of the familiar knot in your abdomen; however, this time is different. A pressure building behind the structure of your pubic bone that you desperately want to find the reason behind. "Y-Yoongi...." Somehow your release feels out of reach "I-I don't think I-I c-can." You whimper, feeling as though your maximum peak was untenable.  

"Y-yes, you can, kitten." Yoongi huffs out, placing kissing and love bits along the lobe of your ear and the curve of your neck. "Cum for me again." Knowing exactly what would bring you over the edge, Yoongi snakes his arm between the two of your sweaty bodies, fingers locating the ball of your clitoris, slowly swiping across the needy nub before attacking with rougher speeds

"Naha!" An electric jolt zips throughout your body, causing your back to arch off the couch. Your senses are on fire. The sweat dripping down your flesh, Yoongi's breath puffing into the shell of your ear, skin rubbing against one another as his thick dick takes you savagely. Was there ever a better feeling than this?

Like a volcano about to erupt, your body begins to shake, unholy moans screeching from your throat, as the knot in the pit of your abdomen becomes incredibly tighter as a sudden urge to pee spikes. "F-fuck Yoon, I... I-I t-think I'm gonna..." And just like that, the build-up inside you snaps, an explosion stronger than ever before. "Fuck!" Your soaking pink muscles push out, liquid squirting out like a waterfall as colors of red, purple and blue, fog your blissful vision, body going limp    

Your warm wetness sprays across Yoongi's pelvis, lines of pearling liquid trickling down his flesh. "Kitten, did you just...?" He silent for a moment upon realizing what exactly just happened. You squirted, the evidence of your unholy release trickling to Yoongi's shaft, still plugged into you. "So. Fuckin. Hot!" The carnal need to release overpowers Yoongi, large hands grabbing hold of your hips, and he snaps his thrusts at record speed. With your walls sucking in Yoongi's girth, the tease of release trickled throughout his body. "F-Fuck, kitten, gonna..." He releases a throaty grunt. "Shit!" One final thrust and he was over the edge, ropes of semen coating your insides like a painter, his canvas.

For a moment, Yoongi's body is in tranquil bliss, limply plummeting onto the couch to lay beside you. The two of your eyes following the shadows of candle-light  flames dancing around the walls as you gasp for air. "Wow." Yoongi snickers with a toothy grin. "I can't believe you squirted." He comments proudly.

You giggle. "I didn't even know I could do that." Responding between breaths.

"Well, know that I know how to make you squirt," Yoongi pulls you into his chest, fingers caressing your hair as he places a kiss atop of your glistening forehead. "I'll be sure to fuck that glass dildo into you more often." His lips pull into a smile while taking in the beautiful sight, which was you... "Happy Birthday, __."

a/n: this is the first time I’ve posted a smut that is this detailed. So, if you have  any pointers or recommendations on how I can improve, please don’t hesitant to reach out. Thanks for reading! ♥

[sportyclown]

how sawamura, miyuki, yuki, and kuramochi text (friends + s/os)

will most likely do a part 2 with more boys at a later date! these got freakishly long because i am, at my core, a very mad. also might revisit as i get re-familiar with the characters, i just had this idea floating around in my head. also the way these got pro

sawamura eijun

no matter who he texts, it’s always extremely extra. not only does he always give more information than you asked for – ex. if you text him wya? he will give you a play by play of his entire route or something

 he also uses tons of emoticons. and yes I do mean emoticons, baby boy has a flip phone. ifhe does eventually get a smart phone, then this boy overuses tf out of emojis. he’s the sort of person that sees someone use a combination of emojis he likes and then tries to copy them, but uses it completely incorrectly, but its v cute.

if you send him a meme, he will respond with an unnecessary amount of hahas. 

when he’s texting his lil bae, they’re always on his mind so he ofc texts them every thought that comes to his mind! when he sees something that reminds him of you, he won’t hesitate to share it with you. 

if you have been together for a long time, then we will definitely text you words of affirmation and be very honest/blunt about how he feels about you. he’s also always sure to ask you about your day - and he seriously cares. but i still i feel like with a s/o he would prefer facetime to texting just because he likes to see you :)

overall, a very adorable texter and his enthusiasm is just as contagious when texting as it is in person. he’s kind of clueless so he doesn’t pick up on subtext. so be blunt, just like he will be with you~

kuromochi youichi

my bias might be showing here, but I feel like he is one of the most well-adjusted boys in terms of being ready for a serious relationship tbh (at least post-high school). i mean we all saw that he regularly corresponded with wakana wish that were me lmao

i think he would most often use proper capitalization, but not to the point where he uses a period after every text

would send his friends news articles about his favorite fighting games where u like gaming or not

a meme fiend in general. the sort of person who uses reaction images of people he knows. (if you’re dating, he would still have a stash of funny pics/screenshots of you on ft, but he’d ofc only use them with you <3). his convos with his friends are rarely serious

 i don’t think he’d be the type to text haha out loud, but he does use LOL on occasion. with close friends/his lil bae he might send a voice memo of him laughing hysterically if you send him something REALLY funny. ugh my annoying king <3

unlike eijun he’s the king of being perceptive / picking up subtext. 

similarly, i do think he’s pretty reliable, but for friends i feel like he might make a lil bit of a stink lmao. like lets say a friend wants him to pick something up for them, he might play like he won’t do it then miraculously shows up with the requested item. its giving tsundere vibes on the low.

with his partner: i feel like he would use emojis when he’s trying to be ~cute~. i think with a established partner he’d be pretty flirty still but he’s v much whipped for his partner so its way more mushy than it would be early in the relationship.

yes your name has hearts/stars in his phone. mans is a SAP for you

his love language is more quality time imo, so I think he values time spent with you over texting time. so a lot of your texts might be asking you to come over to hang out / get a meal or vice versa

like eijun he wants to hear about YOU, and is very supportive and good at advice when he wants to be. he can be goofy but this is how he shows you he cares/sees you as more than a friend

he’s a blushy/shy boy with his s/o esp early in the relationship, so he might be hesitant or nervous to say “i love you” or anything like that outright, but you know anyway, which just makes the times when he does outright say it that much sweeter.

miyuki kazuya

i mean it goes without saying that this man is snarky. he’s not a meme king himself but he enjoys when people send them to him and will usually play off the meme to make his own jokes.

i feel like he also likes deep-fried memes or the very abstract, post-modern memes. miyuki is good at making other people laugh, but he has a generally very-off brand humor and the things that make him cackle hardest are either at someone else’s expense (very similar to kuramochi, so they bond a lot over that) or just indiscernible without access to a huge layer of context/background

saves the reaction photos kuramochi sends him, but doesn’t usually use them. but seeing an ugly pic of eijun yelling never fails to make him grin LMAO

i think he also texts A LOT about baseball, even more so than these other baseball dummies. texts his teammates a lot of articles he reads or clips from games/cool plays. this is mostly about texts, but in terms of social media I think miyuki uses twitter/instagram the most especially for baseball related reasons, while kuramochi uses snapchat the most. 

he probably texts a lot about baseball as well, both seriously and playfully

i can see him using hahas and LOLs in equal measure, but he would also utilize the haha reaction if he had an iphone. this boy does value his wit so he would definitely have commentary about any memes or jokes he’s sent

you won’t win a joke war against him, he will definitely one-up whatever you send him with either a one-liner or another joke. how tf does he do it?

definitely ignores people/conversations if he really wants to - but ofc he never does that to his BAE

if miyuki give you a dry one-line response...he’s not interested at all or he’s feeling frustrated about something else. but when he’s really happy? he will text his friends all the time and spam them! i see him as someone who enjoys texting when he has the attention span/state of mind for it. and when he’s texting his s/o his texting gets even more ~flavorful~

wit his lil bae: i don’t think miyuki would switch it up much w his s/o. is probably even more teasing with you over text than he is with his friends, which is saying something.

like talking with you just by nature of you being his partner. prob prefers texts to facetime because text kinda allows for maximum snark

he LIVES for you guys’ witty back and forth 

if he’s traveling for work or something, will definitely relish in you guys binge texting a tv show or something but just making funny commentary (or he’ll just send you funny commentary to get a reaction)

 he can dish it and he’s also not a super sensitive guy so he can take it tenfold from you as well. nothing y’all wouldn’t be used to when talking in person!

sometimes when texting him you’ll want to beat his a*s because he can be so cheeky but its endearing in a way. he definitely adds emojis to the end of his more annoying messages to give it that loveable vibe (and it works ofc, we love u miyuki)

he’s kinda clingy on the low so i think he’d prefer a partner that’s more open with their affection via text than he is. he would live for your random ilys or whatver throughout the day. also would not mind at all if you updated him on your actions throughout the day or sent him snaps - might not be able to respond to everything, but will react and appreciate it. very likely to make jokes about whatever you’re doing.

would also apologize over text. he’s not always used to apologizing can be awkward about it, so text makes it easier for him.

he would use emojis w you in a joking/ironic way. would absolute use those dumb but genius emoji combinations

yuki tetsuya

i’m literally cracking up thinking about texting him. he is one of my ultimate baes but im sorry i just know he texts dry asf. but its part of his charm!

has a flip phone. either never upgrades or gets the chunkiest most basic android if he is forced to

the thing is this man thinks that he is infusing all his texts with, like, tajin level seasoning, when in reality its pepper

uses punctuation. always. exclamation marks are used sparingly to express excitement.

but i can’t get the image out of my head of an upset tetsuya texting you a simple angry emoji (or the angry emoticon >:( LOL) if he’s reeeeeeally mad. but its v cute i can’t take him seriously. i just want to give him a hug <3

 but you know what he is so PASSIONATE about whatever he’s talking about that his passion bleeds into his text through sheer quantity of words and depth of thought. ultimately, all his conversations end up being extremely flavorful in terms of content. he is surprisingly good at having deep conversations over text.

he’s better at holding conversations with more extroverted personalities, truthfully.

he’s another one who sends random things to people when he thinks about them. miyuki of course gets so many texts/thoughts about shogi. if you get a random haiku, poem, or quote from testu, that means you’re blessed enough to be in his inner circle! he definitely thought of you when he read it and and wants you to respond!

with bae: he doesn’t really change up his texting style tbh, but he has a stronger outward reaction to what YOU text in response.

definitely the type to smile almost imperceptibly at his phone as he texts you, even if you send him something like “hey i’m at the store, want anything?”

he’s not great as verbal affection early in the relationship, so you’ll have to discern his love/affection. however baby boy is NOT afraid to just straight up say he loves you, he does it all the time and early.

he’s KNOWN for being reliable and responsible, so he will be at your beck and call when he’s able to for anything you need, but his heart is also warmed by the thought of you reciprocating that care. if your texts show him you’re thinking of him just like he does too. he’s very gentle and sweet, and checks up on you when he’s able to see if you need anything at all.

he might be reliable, but that doesn’t mean that he’s the quickest guy to respond to texts. he’s a busy guy, and he doesn’t think about his phone all the time, but he will always get back to you (bae does not play when it comes to completing things).

if they came up with a shogi game for gamepidgeon and tetsu had an iphone, your phone probably would be spammed with requests for games lol.

this is my first time doing headcanons like this so please let me know what you think or give me tips on how to improve! I really enjoying thinking about it so I hope to do more in the future <3

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 14 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Separated and terrified, Spencer and Reader rely on their unique skills to survive. The team, minus Penelope and Derek, don’t know who the strange girl in the bank is, but they find out very interesting things about her history.

A/N: I don’t know how banks work. Idk how heists work. I know nothing. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: ANGST. Just. All of it. All of the angst. Every bit. 
 Content Warning: Gun violence, discussions of death and dying Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Hello, my name is (y/n)(y/l/n) and I’m calling from the Bank of America on K St. Northwest to report shots fired. The shots sounded like burst-fire from multiple semiautomatics.”

When adrenaline kicks in, there are a lot of things that don’t feel real. Time seems to warp into some ominous presence weighing down on you, but your body has never felt lighter.

“Ma’am, where are you?” Her voice sounded so far away. My own just felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

“I’m inside the bathroom. Listen, I might not have a lot of time. There’s a federal agent inside the bank. His name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Call...”

My mouth blanked on the names of the two men Spencer talked about the most. I’d met them both, why couldn’t I remember?

Several more shots rang through the building as an answer. It was enough to shake loose the names, which flowed from me before I could even comprehend where they came from.

“Call SSA Aaron Hotchner and… Derek Morgan.”

“Can you remain on the line?” She sounded insistent — which is against their protocol by the way. My eyes were glued to the bathroom door’s hinges.

“Only until the door opens.”

The sentence conveyed my thoughts without actually forming the words. Once that door opens, I’m probably going to die. It wasn’t a completely irrational fear.

“Okay. I need you to remain calm. Did you see any of the gunmen?”

Jesus, it was like everything I’d just told her had gone completely over her head. “No, I’m in the bathroom.”

“Does the agent have his service weapon?”

“No.”

If she didn’t ask me a question I could say yes to soon, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

I tried not to think about Spencer outside, but I couldn’t help it. All of my thoughts were on him, even before the commotion.

Was he even still alive?

“Help is on the way, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

“Please hurry.”

My entire body shook from the hormones, my instincts telling me to do anything besides sit crouched on a toilet in a bathroom stall. I don’t even know why I bothered hiding. They would definitely kick them in, or just shoot straight through the doors.

“We’ve contacted Agent Hotchner and he’s also on his way.”

Finally, some good fucking news. I released my breath as quietly as I could, closing my eyes for just a moment to compensate for the fact I hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could actually do something for me past this point. But it couldn’t. No amount of breathing exercises would help me through this one.

Suddenly, there was movement outside the door. A crowd of people were shuffling past the door, and I heard the distinct sound of a toddler wailing.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t hang up—“

I couldn’t wait, though. With trembling hands, I erased the evidence that I’d ever called them in the first place. And then I resumed my position as a sitting duck; quietly and as ready as I ever could be.

I listened for his voice, but I never heard it.

—————————————————

Three seconds.

Did you know that a semiautomatic weapon can fire up to three rounds per second, depending on how fast the user can pull the trigger?

After the first shot is fired, no one moves. Puzzled and alert, people are paralyzed. Your first reaction is to look for the source of the sound. It’d been a second before I turned to see the three armed people and two dead security guards behind me.

It takes the average person one and a half seconds to cognitively process that they're in a potentially life-threatening situation. It takes another .7 seconds for a physical response to kick in.

Three seconds.That was long enough for a maximum of nine shots per person to be fired- twenty-seven shots in total; it was long enough for the air to be filled with the sudden outburst of helpless screams the patrons of the bank, and it was long enough for me to realize that I didn’t have my gun and that my girlfriend wasn’t by my side.

“Everybody get down on the ground!”

Amid the chaos, I felt that all too familiar twisting sensation in my gut that begged time to reverse just enough for this to be a dream. Enough time to reverse the decisions that led us here.

But time was a cruel mistress, and she did not plan to bend to the whims of mankind, no matter how desperate.

Another deafening burst of sound rang through the air, shots fired into the ceiling now as myself and the others fell to the ground.

My gaze was fixed on the bathroom entrance. I couldn’t breathe. Please, I begged, stay hidden.

“Listen up! If everyone does what we say, you can all go back to your boring fucking lives.”

Injuries occur in less than two percent of bank robberies. Deaths occur in less than one. Saturdays are the second to least likely day for a robbery to take place. In the past 5 years, less than 10 people have been killed in bank robberies, and most of them were the perpetrators. Statistics usually calmed me down and helped me focus.

But these people didn’t care about statistics. They were defying the odds I had just recited to myself. They had already killed two people. Our luck was already stacked against us.

“Take everything out of your pockets and put it in front of you.”

As soon as the order was given, I was running through an inventory of everything in my pockets. It didn’t take me long to realize that with a cursory inspection of the items, they would figure out who I was.

But what were the odds that they would actually scrutinize them? I figured they were fairly low; you don’t rob a bank to get cheap jewelry and petty cash, even in a bank. What were the odds they would notice if I left something in my pocket — especially if my wallet was in front of me. If it wasn’t large enough to be a weapon, and I put out my objects of value, why wouldn’t I put out the rest of the contents?

So I decided to take the risk, removing my wallet while retaining my separate identification.

Luckily, the attention seemed pretty far removed from me. If I wasn’t too busy being extremely grateful, I might have been offended that they didn’t consider me a threat in the building.

“Alright ladies, all of you get up and follow my lovely friend here. You’re going on a little trip. Fellas, you stay right where you are.”

The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the instructions that weren’t intended for me. It was fine, I hadn’t planned on moving, anyway. As long as I could see the door to the bathroom, I was perfectly fine right where I was.

But I still felt for the terrified women that were shakily rising to their feet. To my right, I saw a woman struggling to hold a small infant. My heart was fracturing at the struggle, wishing I could help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk doing anything that might draw attention to myself.

I felt like a traitor. I felt useless. I was quite literally trained to handle this exact situation, but now that I was here, I couldn’t move. I wasn’t thinking about strategy or how to maximize efficiency; all I was thinking about was her.

“Jake!” A woman’s voice screamed from the other side of the room. When I turned, I heard the sound of a rifle cracking against bone before the man hit the ground.

“Jake, huh?” The man above him laughed, using the business end of the rifle to turn the disoriented man on his side. “Well, Jake, how would you feel about your girlfriend watching you die?”

“Please don’t hurt him!” The woman sobbed, scrambling up off the floor that she’d resisted leaving. I wondered if (y/n) would have refused to leave me, too.

The man prodded the woman with the gun, urging her to follow the rest while simultaneously providing easy enough instructions. The man apparently named Jake made a few noises of desperate protest as he watched her leave.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m sorry,” Jake pleaded, “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt her. I’ll be quiet.”

Smart man. I understood his hesitancy, though. His girlfriend kept her neck craned back until she was no longer in sight, gazing back at him for as long as she physically could. I closed my eyes just for a moment, to try and combat their current strain.

Unfortunately, just like it always seems to happen, that’s when they spoke the words I had been dreading.

“Hey, you check the bathrooms yet?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I closed my eyes tighter now, scared that if I opened them, I’d give myself away. There was no possible way that I could hide the terror I currently felt. To be fair, I think it was only natural to be scared — but not like this.

There was a loud crashing noise of doors slamming, and the voice I knew better than I knew my own reached my ears, making sounds I’d never heard from her before.

Don’t fight them. I pleaded again, Please, don’t fight them.

“Let go of me!” She screamed as the door to the bathroom swung open. Unable to keep my eyes shut any longer, I opened them to see her clawing at the ground as she was dragged out by her ankle. “I can walk by myself! Let go of me!”

I wasn’t sure if she didn’t see me in the commotion, or if she’d just made the decision to act like she hadn’t. Either way, I was grateful. Still, my worries were justified as one of the three unsubs walked over to me.

“Why are you looking at her like that? You know her?”

Craning my head up, I shook my head no. It must not have been very convincing; the rage in my heart at them for thrusting her into this situation evident in my eyes.

“You wanna play hero, kid?”

“Sorry. No.” I muttered, taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to regulate my heart rate or my voice, “She’s… very loud. I get headaches.”

“Yeah well, deal with it.”

That might have been the end of it, if I’d played my hand better. But it turned out that the risk I had previously elected to take was woefully miscalculated. I didn’t meet their eyes anymore, knowing that doing so might threaten whatever frail illusion of masculinity they possessed.

It still didn’t stop them from holding the gun to my head.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Okay. I can do that, but I have to put my hand in my pocket.” I explained, moving my shaking hand to my back pocket, “It’s not a weapon.”

For once, I was grateful that I was the resident wimp when it came to stressful situations. Sure, I could handle myself, but I definitely didn’t look like I wanted to be there. Had I been any more of a visible threat, I was certain they would have figured out my identity long before this point. They might even have killed me right away.

“Hurry up.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled the identification from my pocket, flipping it open and holding it up for him to see, my gaze aimed fully forward. He snatched the badge away, a cheeky chuckle and a smile in his words.

“FBI, huh? Well, aren’t we lucky. You just became our most valuable player.”

—————————————————

Morgan arrived on the scene relatively unhurried and mostly just curious. The information Garcia had sent over text message was vague, likely due to the crime being a local one. Nothing about this seemed to be the BAU’s usual fare.

It took him almost no time to find Hotch, dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the massive response team swarming around the bank. But Hotch hadn’t spotted him yet, fully involved with SWAT.

“What’s going on?”

Finally turning to notice his arrival, Hotch gave his normal matter-of-fact report in his simple, succinct manner. “Three people stormed the bank approximately 20 minutes ago and killed two security guards. There are 19 confirmed hostages inside the bank.”

But there was one significant detail that seemed to be missing, and Morgan started to scan the crowd for familiar faces as he spoke. “Hotch, this doesn’t sound like anything we’ve been working on. Why are we responding?”

“The caller alerted us that Reid is inside.”

The words were so unexpected that Morgan actually did a double take, his eyebrows furrowed and bowed as he replayed them in his head. “Wait, how did the caller know that?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said with an equally perplexed look, gripping tighter to the communicator in his hand, “but she referred to us and him by name.”

‘She?’ Morgan thought, his heart stopping for a second as he excused himself from Hotch’s side, pulling out his phone and frantically calling Garcia, who had already made her way to the BAU.

“Hey there handsome.” It was a mild nickname for the famed Penelope Garcia, but Derek knew that she was probably already in a tough spot. After all, it’s not every day that one of their own is in these situations. At least, not unexpectedly.

“Hey Garcia, do you have eyes on the people in the bank?”

He could hear the feverish click-clacking of keys on the other end, followed closely by her equally frantic voice. “I’m working on it but so far I can only see the main lobby. They separated the women and the men for some reason. Why would they do that?”

“Just focus,” he calmly reminded, “Can you see the women?”

“No. All the women and children were moved to the back.”

Rubbing his face to try and relieve the tension that had quickly made its home over his jaw, Morgan glanced over at the entrance to the bank. It was strange to think that so much had happened so quickly.

Garcia had mentioned twice now that the women had been moved to the back, and he was trying to figure out why they would do that beyond the usual control mechanisms.

“I’m trying to see in the back now, but apparently banks take their video surveillance far more seriously than everything else. Last I checked, a camera never stole money or fired a gun!”

“Focus, babygirl.” It was an instruction for himself just as much as it was for her.

“Sorry, I’m nervous, and you know how I get when I’m nervous!” She squeaked, “I don’t like seeing you guys on my screens. I’d much rather see you in person, safe and sound and preferably smiling.”

Trying not to lose his patience, Morgan just sighed. It wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault, except that of the bastards who just had to go and ruin a perfectly nice weekend.

“Can you at least tell me who the caller was? Did they call from inside?”

“They were inside and, one second, let me check, it was... oh.” Her voice cut off abruptly, dropping into a high pitched, desperate whisper. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s... the girl from the movies,” Garcia’s voice got faster and more panicked, “Derek, it’s (y/n). It’s Reid’s girlfriend. Reid’s girlfriend is inside the bank.”

Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the information. Because now that he knew Reid wasn’t alone, he felt the need to tell Hotch.

A profiler with a loved one involved was in dangerous territory. It wasn’t just Reid, but Morgan had personally seen just how unhinged Reid could get when it came to (y/n).

“Can you see her?” He asked, his voice lower than it was before.

“Oh, god, yes! I can!” It was not the kind of excited exclamation Morgan had hoped to hear, but at least he had confirmation she was alive. “She was in the bathroom but… They’re dragging her away…”

Morgan had tried not to pry too far in his best friend’s life before, and he took a moment to consider whether his next request was honestly necessary, or if he was just trying to find a reason to snoop.

But he wasn’t. There was something off about that girl. It wasn’t that she was bad or wrong, but she was far too comfortable in situations that didn’t call for it. The way she carried herself told him that she had held her own hand too often.

“Garcia, I know I’ve already done this to you once but... I need you to tell me everything you can find on her.”

—————————————————

My entire body ached; the sensation of an unfamiliar hand clenched tightly around my ankle burned long after I was released. It was definitely sprained, at the very least. I didn’t dare try to touch it, though. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and the bristling discomfort kept me where I was.

Which, for now was on my knees in the backroom of a bank lobby. Beside us was a large, heavily reinforced steel door with way too many different contraptions. I decided then that this whole arms race between burglars and corporate America had gotten a little fucking ridiculous.

But however annoyed I was by that, I was far more irritated by the hushed bickering between the man and woman holding rifles on the other side of the room. I could only hear every couple of words, but I got the gist of what they were arguing about.

Apparently, they’d never heard of an alarm system that’s connected to locks, which seemed extremely stupid for people who had gotten this far. In hindsight, that should have been my first clue that something was off about this entire situation.

Still, I couldn’t deal with them making the same fucking arguments over and over, so eventually I blurted out what I’m certain any millennial in the room would know. “The keycard won’t work if they’ve sounded the alarm.”

The statement earned me a gun to my face, and after a brief second of confusion, I flinched away from the cold metal of the barrel.

“What was that, sweetheart?” She was clearly looking to gauge my reaction rather than actually ask me to repeat the information. That was fine. I wasn’t exactly a talented actress, and I didn’t see the point in pretending to be meek.

If she was going to kill me, she was going to do it. Although I was certain Spencer would disagree, I chose to believe that our fate is dictated long before it happens. I was not a profiler; if I survived, it would be because I had been taught to survive through brute force and spite rather than calm negotiation.

“The keycard system is linked to the alarms,” I said, slower now, “Someone hit the alarm, so the cards aren’t going to work. You’ll need to use the old school keys.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a much lower register as she crouched down to my height. “How would you know? You work here?”

“No, my dad worked security.” It wasn’t a lie as much as it was an understatement, but she didn’t need to know that. I guess that’s one of those good things growing up with the dad I did; I got very comfortable speaking in vague generalities. Spencer hated it.

“Well, your daddy isn’t here to help you now.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. But that didn’t mean I was alone, I reminded myself. Despite being dragged and my vision turned literally upside down, I had caught a glimpse of him in the lobby. He was alive. That thought alone was keeping me sane right now.

“The different keys you need for an override are probably kept on separate people so one person can’t do it alone. Probably the different managers.” I muttered, nodding to the side where one of the employees flinched at my words. Anything to get away from the fucking gun in my face.

“Is she right?” The woman sneered to the manager, turning her full attention to someone else. I felt a little guilty, since the poor manager seemed a lot less put together than I was. But hey, they needed her, too.

“Yes, I already gave you my keys,” she squeaked, holding her trembling hands up, “Th-There’s another set behind the desk I think.”

“Would you look at that...” It was the first time the man in the room addressed me since he had pulled me out of the stall, and I had to admit I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. But at the same time, I knew that he was going to be remarkably more receptive to me than the woman. She seemed to be the one who was actually in charge.  

“Little miss problem was actually helpful,” he cheered, raising his weapon to point to the ceiling as he approached me. I chewed nervously on my cheeks, trying to meet his eyes but finding them uncomfortably bare.

“You should turn off the camera too, I’m just saying.” This time I didn’t nod, using one cautious finger to point to the small device that was currently staring right at me. I understood that it was probably helpful to Spencer’s team to be able to see, but I wasn’t really keen on my death being videotaped... as well as anything else I might end up doing.

‘Never leave a trace.’ That’s what I’d always heard.

‘Keep’em guessing. Even if you think it’s gonna kill you, because you don’t want to live with that over your head.’

“Fine. Do that and go get the keys.” He sounded intrigued, and I felt his searing gaze against my face.

“I think you should do it.”

The tension from before, when the two were arguing, had quickly resurfaced. She clearly didn’t trust him to be alone in the room, which solidified my belief that she was calling the shots, and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

In another life, I might have respected her ability to order stupid men around.

“Why the fuck is that?” He snapped, earning a bored roll of her eyes. The next thing out of her mouth was expected, but unfortunately the last thing I wanted to hear.

“I want to talk to her alone.”

Great. And naturally, her idea of ‘talking’ to me included weaponry. Using the end of the gun to tilt my head up to her, she gave a suspicious smile.

“Why are you helping us?”

“I want to go home.” It was my immediate and instinctual answer. It was the truth. I was helping them because I wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But you know, people expect everyone to have a squeaky-clean moral compass, so I decided to give a few more reasons.

“And I don’t give a shit about a massive corporate bank. I was just here to go to the bathroom– I don’t even have an account here.”

Maybe that was too many reasons, because just as her hesitance waned, it was back in full force. Shoving the barrel against my throat, she sneered, “I don’t believe you. You’re too comfortable with a gun in your face. You a cop, too?”

Cop?

I tilted my head to the side, baring more of my throat to her as I drawled, “Who’s a cop?”

For once, I was glad that Spencer had made such a point of reassuring me that he was not ‘a cop,’ because otherwise I’m certain the terror would have been obvious in my eyes. But for now, I could trust the numb apathy that was washing over me.

Please don’t be talking about Spencer. Please don’t know that. Good things never happened to law enforcement in situations like this. Hell, the two security guards had been dead in seconds.

“I think you know.” She was smiling, and I realized that this fucking psychopath was sharper than she wanted me to think.

“I don’t.” The words were said through clenched teeth, and I prayed that she would see them as insistent anger over the fear that lie beneath them, “And why would you kill me if I was helping you?”

She smiled, drawing the weapon up and down my throat until it landed lower at my chest. The movements were slow and light, a playful glint in her eyes when they met mine again.

“For fun.”

I didn’t move a muscle, my body remaining tense under her ministrations as I forced myself to hold my gaze steady. If she wanted fear, she wouldn’t get it from me.

“Then do it.”

The look she gave me told me she had seriously considered it, probably a little annoyed with my presence. But there was something else there, too, that same soft recognition that in another reality we might have been friends. I’m sure she saw herself in me a little bit; or at least somebody useful.

This confirmed my suspicion that I’d never really be able to read a psychopath. I didn’t understand how Spencer could do it every day. It’d only been a few minutes alone with her and I could feel myself losing the happy memories of the day.

Luckily, the man returned at the same time I saw a plan developing in her mind.

“Hey, come help me,” he called to her. Her response was surprisingly swift, the metal that was tracing over my collar bones disappearing without another word. He was holding a small bag of money, which seemed to seriously irritate the woman.

“Did you get that money from behind the counter?” I asked it before she had a chance. I wanted him to trust me. Or at least look at me more. It wasn’t that I wanted his attention as much as I knew I could distract him fairly easily.

He looked over at me, a dumbfounded look on his face. Men are so fucking stupid, I thought. The pissed off expression on his partner’s face told me that she agreed.

“It’s going to explode if you mess with it or it leaves the area. Probably with tear gas. If you’re escaping in a car, you’re not gonna want it.”

“Yeah, we know about dye packs, bitch.” She snapped, grabbing the bag of money and tossing it to the side of the door they intended to use.

I stared at the locks they hadn’t even bothered trying to touch. The same locks they apparently didn’t look up or know anything about when they came. Suddenly it hit me why this all felt so very off.

It was strange enough that no one was wearing a mask, and as far as I’d heard, no one was really trying to get out of this situation. I was certain that by this point there was a large crowd of armored men outside.

“Just trying to help,” I muttered as I started to scan the room, looking for telltale signs of tampering. The anxious whispering of the man distracted me just long enough to get more information.  

“Won’t that set off some shit? Chain reaction shit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman responded with a swift elbow to his gut as she started to walk away, “you are an absolute moron.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, I heard the faint curses that fell from his lips. As he picked up the bag just to toss it away again, I noticed the presence of odd packages in the corner of the room. He really did not want exploding dye packs near those boxes, which seemed remarkably out of place.

“Why does she think she’s in charge?” I asked, finally ripping my eyes away from the objects that now seemed glaringly obvious. “You two guys outnumber her.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

Relaxing my body as much as I could, I shifted back and forth on my knees, rubbing the tired muscles of my thighs. “I may have been told that once or twice.”

He actually chuckled; his eyes drawn to my legs like the absolute moron he so obviously was. She definitely had gotten that one right. The other women in the room were watching me, but I tried not to pay them any mind.

I didn’t know when or why they decided to let me do whatever I wanted, but I appreciated their apparent comfort in letting me try to kill myself. He made his way over to the boxes, each a specific size and shape. He carried them so carefully.

“I figure there’s no point in being scared if I’m going to die anyway.” I finally said. Shocked gasps and whispers filled the room, but I didn’t divert my attention to them– No matter how much I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up.

They would distract me from the way his mouth curled into a smile when he closed the gap between us, his hand sliding down my head and over my shoulder to follow the braid Spencer had meticulously woven an hour before.

“How about you just shut up and sit pretty for me, sweetheart.” I tried not to let the disgust show as his hand slid behind my neck, holding my head so that I had to look up at him. “You seem like you’d be real good at that.”

Ha! If only Spencer could hear him say that. But I could play the good girl for just long enough.

“Do you need help?” I asked with a tiny shrug, “I might be little but I’m pretty strong.” Strong enough to break your fucking hand if you don’t get it off of me.

“Nah.” He ordered, his hand on my neck getting tighter. “But I don’t doubt that you could be useful. You look real good on your knees.”

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might be visible through my ribs. I just needed an excuse to move. If he could give me an excuse to move, I could do so many things.

“Please let me help,” I begged, raising my hand to his forearm against my shoulder. His eyes began to shift, moving just enough to tell me that he wanted to look to the hallway. He could hear her footsteps, too. She was coming back, and I only had a few seconds left.

Once both of my hands were on his arm, I got the feeling he knew something even worse was coming for him.

“I’d love a chance to get to show you how helpful I really am.”  

—————————————————

Hotch had spent the past five minutes on the phone with the male unsub in the lobby, and the conversation was going absolutely nowhere. For whatever reason, they just seemed to deflect any opportunity provided to them.

They didn’t seem to give a shit about anything beyond pushing the buttons of each person they interacted with. Which, they did quite successfully.

“Didn’t realize one pig would bring the whole flock of you here,” he laughed, clearly motioning to Spencer on the video, “How bad do you want him back?”

“What do you want?” He responded without hesitation or a surprise. It was such an expected question to ask that he’d barely even thought about his words before they came out.

“Easy. A chopper, and for you to fuck off.”

That was the equally stereotypical response, meaning it was entirely unhelpful to them. From what they could deduce, they were equally confused as to why this heist seemed to follow all the rules, but match none of the motivations. It was like it was a show, a game, rather than an actual attempt to maximize profits.

“We can do the helicopter, but we can’t give you a pilot.”

“That’s fine,” he responded with a shrug, “Don’t need one.”

It was the first piece of useful information he’d gotten so far on the call. Because if they didn’t need a pilot, it meant one of two things: either one of them possessed the skill themselves, or they weren’t ever intending to use the helicopter.

Briefly pulling the phone away, Hotch turned to Morgan. “Tell Garcia to check our list with people with pilot’s licenses or any other connection that might provide them the skills to fly a helicopter.”

He returned to the call, continuing the usual script for these situations, trying not to act like he’d learned anything new.

“Can you release the women and children?”

“Nah,” the guy said with a chuckle, “I’ll wait.”

Hotch listened to the sound of the receiver for a moment, staring at the entrance to the bank like it would provide him the answers he still needed. He had his suspicions of what might be happening, but with no eyes in the back anymore and the trigger-happy group that had formed around him, he wouldn’t have the resources to convince them not to go in guns blazing.

“We’re ready to move in.” Which is exactly what they had requested.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stated before finally moving to look at the man next to him, “Something isn’t right here.”

“Yeah, a lot isn’t right here. There’s 19 innocent people in there.”

It didn’t really matter how many times he went through this situation; the results always seemed to be the same. No one listened, even when it wasn’t one of their men inside.

“Storming the building isn’t going to help them. There are three armed perpetrators inside, and they’re each in a different area. It would be impossible for us to take out all three at once. Especially now that we can’t see in the back. There could be explosives in there for all we know.”

The man was unpersuaded.

“If we can’t save them all, minimizing casualties is the name of the game.”

“Wait a few more minutes. I’m waiting to hear back from our analyst. If they have the capability of flying a plane, its highly likely they also have the knowledge and skills to create weapons that we aren’t currently prepared to handle.”

Although still unconvinced, the man grudgingly gave in to the request. Hotch closed his eyes, trying to be grateful for the extremely small victory; they’d gained a few more minutes. But the relief was short lived, with Morgan putting his phone aside for a second to mutter the same thing Hotch was thinking.

“Hotch, these people are way too confident. It’s like they know there’s a way out.”

As soon as he said the words, the two just looked at each other.

“Garcia, can you also check for any other way out of the bank?” He asked, walking back over to the table laid out under the nearby tent. This would have been a great time for Reid to be here, he thought as he stared at the ridiculously complicated schematics.

He understood they didn’t want people to be able to figure them out (so they couldn’t rob the bank), but this was just ridiculous. It looked ancient.  

“Sure thing, but… Morgan, I think there’s something else you should see.” The nerves dancing in her voice told him that they were about to switch subjects. “You know how the guy disabled the camera feed in the back room. I was reviewing the footage we do have and it looks like… (y/n) told him to.”

“Why would she do that?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he glanced over to the ornate bank doors. Part of him wanted to joke that things would’ve been a lot simpler if he didn’t have to worry about Reid’s weird girlfriend, but it didn’t feel as funny when they were both in danger.

Maybe later, he thought hopefully, when they were all together again.

“I… don’t know why. But I did what you asked, and I went through her record and found a ton of sealed files on her and also her dad…”

Morgan’s attention was definitely piqued at that point, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. In the stunned silence, Penelope spoke again.

“Should… Should I unseal them?”

It was the same question he was debating in his head, and he honestly didn’t know. Although a long shot, he hoped that she could provide at least the bare minimum of context before they made that kind of decision.

“What kind of files are we talking about?”

“I can’t be sure until I unseal them b-but, I mean, they’re sealed for a reason and I’m talking scary sealed. Like, it might take me a minute sealed. Giving me the heebie-jeebies sealed.” She grew more frantic as she continued. Morgan knew they were running out of time.

“I get it.”

“Is Reid okay?” She switched gears, recognizing that Morgan’s hesitance meant it was probably a bad idea. She wasn’t going to push it unless he did. They didn’t even know if she could help even if they unsealed the files. Especially without a visual.

“They know he’s with us,” Morgan sadly admitted, “I don’t know what’s going on. Did you find another way out of the bank?”

“Right.” The conversation was going to give everyone involved whiplash at this point. “Yes! There is an access way through tunnels underneath the bank but it would take a massive distraction for all three of them to be able to get out of there without us meeting them on the other side. I’m talking earth shatterin–.”

She didn’t finish the sentence, her tongue halting the second her mind caught up with her voice. Morgan was equally concerned, recognizing the kind of distraction that this might require and the perfect way to escape with maximum damage.

But that wasn’t what got his attention. There was no fiery explosion or shouted epiphany, because at that same time there were the muffled sounds of gunshots coming from inside.

“Oh my god, what was that?!” Garcia yelled, accompanied by frantic clicking as she filtered through each individual camera to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Garcia, do you have eyes on the main room?”

“Yes! But it wasn’t in the main room, Derek, it was in the back!”

It was a difficult and necessary job, to consider what those sounds might mean for the young girl they’d met only a few weeks earlier. Morgan’s thoughts went even further, not only worried about her safety, but his best friend’s sanity. Lord knows Reid didn’t need another thing weighing on his conscience. Especially not about her; it just might destroy him.

“What does the unsub in the main area look like? Does he look confused? Surprised?” The words were coming, but he didn’t know where from. His body was on autopilot, desperately seeking any validation that they could still save everyone.

“I-I don’t know! He looks grainy! The image is like an inch wide!” She was clearly growing frustrated, which was a feeling they all shared at this point. “This camera is from before I was even born!”

“Try, Penelope,” Morgan pleaded, “Give me something.”

But the other men weren’t willing to wait.

“That’s it. We’re moving in.”

Morgan turned to them, his hand clutching tighter to the phone just in time for her to speak.

“He’s calling for them but they’re not coming out. He looks… Oh no. He’s yelling at Reid now. And... And it looks like someone is coming down the hallway? But he’s not looking–”

It was impossible to focus on everything that was happening, heavy boots and massive commotion as people began to take their positions. But if someone was coming down the hallway, and the unsub didn’t know, that could only mean a few things. Either he was about to be proven disposable, or someone else had fired those shots.

Either way, one thing was clear.

“Wait! We can’t go in there yet!”

—————————————————

There was a point in time where I might have questioned whether I would ever get used to a gun in my face. There was also a point where I actually had gotten used to it. But nothing could have prepared me for this moment, this terrifying realization while staring down the barrel of an assault rifle that I didn’t want to die yet.

I used to think that my life was somewhat disposable. Sure, I was helpful and useful for my job, but ultimately, I considered myself replaceable. The next person to come might not have the same credentials, but they probably wouldn’t also have half the flaws I do.

But now I wasn’t thinking of work. I wasn’t thinking about how replaceable I was, because it wasn’t my life that mattered.

I didn’t want to die yet, because I wanted to see her again.

So I just stared at the weapon, trying to remember that it was still a great possibility that I could. I tried not to think about what was in front of me, choosing to use most of my brainpower to picture what it would feel like when I had her in my arms again.

The vision inside my head ended swiftly, with the sound of rapidly fired weaponry coming from down the hall. Through the commotion of screaming, I surmised that at least two guns had been fired.

Silence followed. It was a stifling, exhausting, painful silence.

What broke it was even worse, with the gun in my face smacking into the side of my head as the man holding it lost his grip at the sound.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He looked at me like he expected me to have the answers, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t—“ Not only did I not understand why two guns would fire, I didn’t know who had shot them or for what reason. There was one thing I did know. “It sounded like your weapons.”

“Hey, what’s going on back there?!” He shouted, twisting his body just enough to see around the corner.

There was no reply.

“Did your people get in here somehow?” The panic was obvious, and I didn’t know how to calm him down without arousing suspicion. He was continuing to devolve, stepping closer to me as he stuck with his original thought, “How the fuck could they have done that, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you do know?”

It was a question I’d been asking myself. The longer the silence continued in the back, the more rapidly my anxiety rose. There are only a few reasons why we wouldn’t hear more screaming.

Either someone had managed to get remarkable control over the situation, or all of the hostages were dead. Including (y/n). I forced myself to consider the far less likely, but still possible third option: She was dying, and I could still help her.

“I know that there is still a way for you to get out of this.” I barely recognized my own voice as I rambled, “Is it possible your partners… Is it possible they were planning on leaving together?”

“What?” He sounded disgusted and exhausted, but simultaneously insecure. It didn’t take much effort to realize that he was the weakest of the crew. I’d already had my suspicions that whatever the next step in this journey was, he wasn’t going to be making it with them regardless.

“It was their decision to leave you out here, right? In the place with the most windows and the first access to the door? They put you with all the people most likely to fight back. And now it sounds like…”

I paused, my lips unable to make the next words without a deep breath. “It sounds like they killed the people in the back as a diversion to send in SWAT. Does that sound like something they would do?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That was enough confirmation for me. It was definitely something they would do, and he knew it. He probably suspected it himself. Thankfully, it gave me enough courage to push back for the first time in this encounter. “Then go back there and see if they’re still there.”

“And just let you be hero and save all these guys? No chance.��

I wanted to laugh; if only he knew the real reason I wanted him to go back there. As terrible as it was, I didn’t care at all about the rest of these men right now. As far as I knew, they were relatively safe. In fact, they were in a better position if what I’d deduced was true. This man, while violent, wasn’t the kind to murder everyone in sight, even when cornered. He’d more likely be shot by SWAT.

“I’ll come with you.” It was a plea, a desperate attempt to get more information that I both wanted and feared. He watched me carefully, trying to read the terror on my face to determine where exactly it was coming from. He knew the hostages were useless to him if he had me, so I wasn’t particularly scared for my life.

At least, not just yet.

“Fine. Get up.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking; to just carry me far enough that I could see her face. I just needed to know that she was okay.

But then I felt a fine mist over my skin— it almost felt like the noise happened after, but I knew logically that couldn’t be true.

A gun fires before the bullets hit their target.

Time seemed to move slower as his body fell to the ground in front of me. My eyes followed him to the floor, but only until I saw the person holding the gun through my peripherals.

“...(y/n)?”

And there she was, clutching tightly onto a rifle, her body barely upright as she staggered forward. There was something remarkably off-putting about the sight of her holding on for dear life to something so morbid. A jarring contrast I would not soon be able to forget, if I ever could.

There was something even more unsettling about the ease with which she carried the weapon, and the fact that she had managed to fire something that powerful without a single stray bullet.

“They’re dead!” She boomed across the room, dropping the weapon onto the floor before she yelled again, “Everyone get out! Hurry!”

No one moved. All of the men, myself included, stared at the tiny girl who’d just saved all of our lives.

“Get out now! There’s a bomb in the back!”

Those were the magic words to stir a panicked crowd into action, people stampeding to the single double door at the entrance, but my eyes were fixed on her. She staggered forward, her arm around her waist and her eyes beginning to roll back.

Perhaps I was just clueless, my one-track mind too slow to navigate the scene in front of me, but it took me that long to see it. My brain rioted against the visuals it took in, the dark crimson dripping down her body. It looked like it would swallow her whole.

I tried to will my body to move, to run to her and do something, anything to help her. But I couldn’t, frozen in place as her small steps got weaker. It wasn’t until I saw her begin to sway that I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Wait!” I screamed to anyone who would listen, my eyes frantically trying to meet someone in the crowd, “Someone get a medic!”

The woman with a child was the last one to pass. She stopped among the commotion, looking down at the carnage in my lap before bolting towards the door.

I had to trust that she would care enough to do something, because from that point on my attention wouldn’t be leaving (y/n). Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance and wandering aimlessly despite my face being in view.

“Hey, hey little girl.” My voice crackled as I held her cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

She was finally able to meet my gaze, her eyes filling with love with a small, delirious smile gracing her lips.

“Hey old man.”

The grin didn’t last long, the sounds of her choking and coughing replacing it as blood filled her mouth. I tried to turn her enough that she could spit it out, but it was obvious she was struggling to get any air at all.

“We’re gonna get you some help, okay?” I said with a false confidence, the twisted curve of my lips not even barely resembling a smile.

“It hurts,” she sobbed, her hands slipping in the blood on her stomach.

“I know.”

There wasn’t anything I could do; all I could do was sit there and stare, trying to decide where my hands should be. She was applying pressure to her wound on the front, but I could see the wreckage that was once her back. My hands wouldn’t be enough.

“I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” I was trembling, tears dripping from my face and mixing with the bloody mess; they still couldn’t dilute it, somehow make it vanish. “I know you’re tired. But you’ve gotta stay awake, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

At first, I wanted to say the innocence in her voice was surprising, but it wasn’t. She was innocent. She was just a young girl, trying to live a happy, normal life before she met me.

“You’re doing great.” I tried to convince myself this wasn’t my fault, but it didn’t work. She had said it herself — she wouldn’t have ever come to a bank on her own. The statistics of the rarity of this situation kept playing on a loop in the back of my head, but it was just a low hum beneath the sound of her pained whimpers.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something.” The newfound insistence in her voice twisted in my gut, and my hands held tighter to her arm.

“No, don’t,” I begged, already anticipating what was going to happen. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to tell you right now.” And then her voice was calm, a smile on her face as her blood-soaked hand left her stomach, trying to raise to touch me. It didn’t make it.

“No, you can tell me later.”

The words were so slurred and pathetic, I’m surprised she understood them. But she did, taking a deep, whistling breath. It was clear it hurt her to speak, and I wanted to tell her to be quiet, but the masochist in me needed to hear the words all the same.

“Spencer, please. Just listen to me.”

This sounded too much like a goodbye.

“I love you.”

Our bodies rocked as I realized I hadn’t taken a breath of my own in too long, the pain in my oxygen deprived lungs not nearly enough to distract me from the genuine softness of her voice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, “Do you know that?”

I don’t know how she wasn’t crying, her eyes barely open but too tired to blink. That rosy complexion had faded, her skin blanching the longer she lay in my arms.

“Yes, I know.”

“I love you with my whole heart.”

My mind was flashing images from only a couple hours prior, her warm laugh as she laid on my lap, the way her hair slipped between my fingers while I wove it together.

‘You think you’ll still be around?’

‘If you’ll have me.’

The memories were blurring together, creating a symphony of promises that were about to be shattered in front of my eyes.

‘Forever,’ she’d said. ‘Forever.’

‘A white picket fence. Two little bratty genius babies. Just a normal, domestic life with Dr. and Mrs. Reid.’

Rejecting the thought, I shook my head, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I understand what you meant when…” Her voice was too quiet, too distant, to be this warm. “When you said it was nice to be able to say it.”  

The heavy footfalls and sound of a transport bed wheeling across the floor alerted me that I would have to let her go soon. Whether this would be the last time I ever held her, I couldn’t be sure.

“They’re gonna come take you now, but I’ll be right behind them. I promise.” I barely got the words out before their hands were all over her, those tired eyes shooting wide open as unfamiliar hands replaced mine.

“Wait, Spencer!” She cried out, her body too limp to make a meaningful attempt to stop them, “Don’t leave me!”

Her screams and sobs were ringing louder than the gunshots had, my body slowly making its way upright as I watched them place her on the bed.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise.” I tried not to let the panic bleed through, raising the volume as she started to be taken away from me, “Stay awake as long as you can.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her attempts to scream. If she was calling my name, it wasn’t recognizable. I’m not sure which hurt worse— the sound of her tired lips butchering my name, or the silence that followed.

She wasn’t able to scream anymore.

When I emerged from the bank, the sun burned my eyes just as much as the sight of my team shocked to see me covered in blood. But I couldn’t focus on them at all, immediately bolting after the paramedics without another thought.

The extra time it took them to carefully load her allowed me to jump into the back of the vehicle before the doors shut. There were no words to describe this situation, nor make it any better.

So I just stared in horrified fascination, trying to gauge her odds as they rapidly changed in front of me. Of 107,141 firearm injuries last year, 31% died. How many of the 69% had assault rifle wounds? I couldn’t remember any other statistics. My brain had turned itself off, focusing only on the frantic beeping and scrambled voices.

“Where is he?” Her tiny voice cut through both the internal and external noise.

“I’m right here.” I nearly shouted from my precarious position standing in the back of the rattling ambulance. I wanted to move closer, but I was too scared. There were so many hands on her, and I didn’t want to get in the way.

“I’m scared.” She said, mirroring my exact thoughts.

“I’m right here.” I repeated, closing my eyes to hide from the carnage long enough to put words together that might make her feel any ounce of comfort, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Taking an experimental step forward once the paramedics seemed settled in their places, I came to stand behind her. My hands were tinted red and trembled as they reached out to touch her cheeks.

She took a sharp inhale at the sensation, just barely holding her head up straight. I couldn’t tell if she was leaning into my touch or just couldn’t control her neck any longer. Her skin felt like ice, and although she was still beautiful, the blue tint creeping over her face struck fear in my heart.

“How much longer until we get to the hospital? Her body temperature is dropping.”

If she heard me, she didn’t respond. I stared at the paramedic who was obviously more concerned with other things at the moment. They were kind enough to give me a response, even if it wasn’t a satisfying one.

“Just a few more minutes. We can’t do anything until we stop the bleeding, sir.”

“Spencer…” Each time she spoke was simultaneously terrifying and comforting. It was confirmation she was alive, but also troublesome, because I knew that she should be reserving her efforts for staying alive.

“Hang in there, little girl. We’re almost there.”

She opened her eyes, staring up at me with clouded vision. I could see the pain so clearly it might as well have been me on the table.

“Please help me,” she sobbed, “help me.”

“I-I can’t.” They were the two hardest words I’d ever had to say. Frustration mounted in me, but none of it was directed at her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Myself, on the other hand, I hated myself in that moment.

She was begging for me to help her, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stand here and watch as she bled out in the back of an ambulance, a stranger’s hands practically inside of her stomach.

“I don’t want to die.”

The way her voice cracked took whatever was left of my sanity with it, and I felt my fingertips slip in the blood as I pressed against her face.

“You won’t,” I tried to assure her, “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t.” The usual spunk in her voice had faded, leaving behind the sound of a twenty year old girl with no fight left in her. “I’m so sorry, Spencer…”

‘Sorry?’ I thought below the horror, ‘for what?’

When her eyes shut, they couldn’t even make it all the way. It was an expression I’d seen before on the field. I wasn’t meant to see it on her.

“No. No, no, wake up.” I urged, patting her cheeks softly before closing my hands around them more tightly, “Wake up, little girl, please.”

I was talking to no one, because I don’t think she could hear me anymore. Absolutely nothing in her body changed, even as the paramedics became more rushed.

“I’ve located the bleed!” The woman beside me yelled as the ambulance began to rapidly slow down. “I’m sorry sir, but we need you to move.”

“Whatever you need. Please, just help her.” I’d said the words, but my actions didn’t follow. She stared down at my hands that were still tethered to (y/n)’s face, trying to provide the warmth that she desperately needed.

Somehow, I was able to wrench them away, only then realizing the bloody handprints I’d left behind. Her face still wasn’t moving.

“Please, I—“

Before I could say another word, they were already out of the ambulance. I followed as closely as I could behind them, trying to focus enough to ensure that every word said could be played again in my mind. Because the second she crossed the threshold into the surgery suite, I wouldn’t be able to hear them anymore.

I would have to wait. I would have to wait for her to be better, or wait for a declaration. And in that vast silence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop from torturing myself with every single word uttered in this building before the doors closed.

The doors were ahead of us now, and I wished time could slow down enough that I could give her one more kiss and tell her to be strong one more time before she went into the Schrodinger’s Box that was the emergency room operating table.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and when the thought crossed my mind, I realized that I’d never said it back. She’d said it three times, but in my adamant denial I’d failed to return it.

It was so much like us, I’d almost laughed. She’d made such a point of worrying about me leaving her, neither of us had ever stopped to think about how I’d live without her.

How would I live without her? The only person I trusted to have an answer was wheeled into the room, the door shutting abruptly in front of me.

In the reflection of the metal door I saw myself, drenched in the dark liquid. I tried to clean my face with my hand only to realize that they, too, were dirty with her blood.

The world had fallen silent, and I let myself be crushed by the overwhelming loneliness of an existence without her.

‘Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.’

It was too late.

—————————————————

| Part 15 |